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THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE 
By H. DE BALZAC 


SCENES FROM PROVINCIAL LIFE 
EUGENIE GRANDET 


i 


BALZAC’S NOVELS. 

Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. 


Already Fuhlished: 

PEKE GORIOT. 

DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. 

RISE AND FALL OF CESAR BIROT- 
TEAU. 

EUGENIE GRANDET. 

COUSIN PONS. 

THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 

THE TWO BROTHERS. 

THE ALKAHEST. 

MODESTE MIGNON. 

THE MAGIC SKIN (Peau de Chagrin). • 
COUSIN BETTE. 

LOUIS LAMBERT. 

BUREAUCRACY (Les Employes). 
SERAPHITA. 

— ♦ 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
BOSTON. 


% 


-- 


HONORE DE BALZAC 


TRANSLATED BY 

KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 


EUGE NIE GRANDET 



ROBERTS BROTHERS 

3 SOMERSET STREET 

BOSTON 

1889 




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Copyright^ 1886y 
By Roberts Brothers. 


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SnfbersttB Prcaa: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 


SCENES FROM PROVINCIAL LIFE. 


EUGfiNIE GEANDET. 

I. 

There are hq^ses in certain provincial towns whose 
aspect inspires melancholy, akin to that called forth 
by sombre cloisters, dreary moorlands, or the deso- 
lation of ruins. Within these houses there is, per- 
haps, the silence of the cloister, the barrenness of 
moors, the skeleton of ruins ; life and movement are 
so stagnant there that a stranger might think them 
uninhabited, were it not that he encounters suddenly 
the pale, cold glance of a motionless person, whose 
half-monastic face peers beyond the window-casing at 
the sound of an unaccustomed step. 

Such elements of sadness formed the physiognomy, as 
it were, of a dwelling-house in Saumur which stands at 
the end of the steep street leading to the chateau in 
the upper part of the town. This street — now little 
frequented, hot in summer, cold in winter, dark in cer- 
tain sections — is remarkable for the resonance of its 


2 


EugSnie Grandet. 


little pebbly pavement, always clean and dry, for the 
narrowness of its tortuous road-way, for the peaceful 
stillness of its houses, which belong to the Old town 
and are over-topped by the ramparts. Houses three 
centuries old are still solid, though built of wood, 
and their divers aspects add to the originality which 
commends this portion of Saumur to the attention 
of artists and antiquaries. 

It is difficult to pass these houses without admiring 
the enormous oaken beams, their ends carved into 
fantastic figures, whieh crown with a black bas-relief 
the lower floor of most of them. In one place these 
transverse timbers are covered with slate and mark a 
bluish line along the frail wall of a dwelling covered by 
a roof en colomhage which bends beneath the weight of 
years, and whose rotting shingles are twisted by the 
alternate action of sun and rain. In another place 
blackened, worn-out window-sills, with delieate sculp- 
tures now scarcely discernible, seem too weak to bear the 
brown clay pots from which springs the heart’s-ease or 
the rose-bush of some poor working-woman. Farther 
on are doors studded with enormous nails, where the 
genius of our forefathers has traced domestic hieroglyph- 
ics, of which the meaning is now lost forever. Here a 
Protestant attested his belief; there a Leaguer cursed 
Henry IV. ; elsewhere some bourgeois has carved the 
insignia of his noblesse de cloches^ symbols of his long- 


Eugenie G-randeL, 3 

forgotten magisterial glory. The whole history of 
France is there. 

Next to a tottering house with roughly plastered 
walls, where an artisan enshrines his tools, rises the 
mansion of a country gentleman, on the stone arch 
of which above the door vestiges of armorial bearings 
may still be seen, battered by the many revolutions 
that have shaken France since 1789. In this hilly 
street the ground-floors of the merchants are neither 
shops nor warehouses ; lovers of the Middle Ages will 
here find the ouvrouere of our forefathers in all its 
naive simplicit}^ These low rooms, which have no 
shop-frontage, no show-windows, in fact no glass at 
all, are deep and dark and without interior or exte- 
rior decoration. Their doors open in two parts, each 
roughly iron-bound ; the upper half is fastened back 
within the room, the lower half, fitted with a spring- 
bell, swings continually to and fro. Air and light 
reach the damp den within, either through the upper 
half of the door, or through an open space between 
the ceiling and a low front wall, breast-high, which 
is closed by solid shutters that are taken down ever}’^ 
morning, put up every evening, and held in place 
b}" heavy iron bars. 

This wall serves as a counter for the merchandise. No 
delusive display is there ; only samples of the business, 
whatever it may chance to be, — such, for instance, as 


4 


EugSnie GrandeU 


three or four tubs full of codfish and salt, a few bundles 
of sail-cloth, cordage, copper wire hanging from the 
joists above, iron hoops for casks ranged along the wall, 
or a few pieces of cloth upon the shelves. Enter. A 
neat girl, glowing with youth, wearing a white kerchief, 
her arms red and bare, drops her knitting and calls her 
father or her mother, one of whom comes forward and 
sells you what you want, phlegmatically, civillj", or arro- 
gantly, according to his or her individual character, 
whether it be a matter of two sous’ or twenty thousand 
francs’ worth of merchandise. You ma}^ see a cooper, 
for instance, sitting in his doorway and twirling his 
thumbs as he talks with a neighbor. To all appearance 
he owns nothing more than a few miserable boat-ribs 
and two or three bundles of laths ; but below in the port 
his teeming wood-yard supplies all the cooperage trade 
of Anjou. He knows to a plank how many casks are 
needed if the vintage is good. A hot season makes him 
rich, a rainy season ruins him ; in a single morning 
puncheons worth eleven francs have been known to drop 
to six. In this country, as in Touraine, atmospheric 
vicissitudes control commercial life. Wine-growers, 
proprietors, wood - merchants, coopers, inn -keepers, 
mariners, all keep watch of the sun. They tremble when 
they go to bed lest they should hear in the morning of 
a frost in the night; the}^ dread rain, wind, drought, 
and want water, heat, and clouds to suit their fancy. 


EugSnie Grandet 


5 


A perpetual duel goes on between the heavens and 
their terrestrial interests. The barometer smooths, 
saddens, or makes merry their countenances, turn and 
turn about. From end to end of this street, formerly 
the Grand’rue de Saumur, the words: “Here’s golden 
weather,” are passed from door to door ; or each man 
calls to his neighbor : “It rains louis,” knowing well what 
a sunbeam or the opportune rainfall is bringing him. 

On Saturdays after midday, in the fine season, not 
one sou’s worth of merchandise can be bought from 
these worthy traders. Each has his vine3’ard, his 
enclosure of fields, and all spend two days in the 
countr}^ This being foreseen, and purchases, sales, and 
profits provided for, the merchants have ten or twelve 
hours to spend in parties of pleasure, in making obser- 
vations, in criticisms, and in continual spying. A 
housewife cannot buy a partridge without the neigh- 
bors asking the husband if it were cooked to a turn. 
A 3^oung girl never puts her head near a window that 
she is not seen by idling groups in the street. Con- 
sciences are held in the light ; and the houses, dark, 
silent, impenetrable as they seem, hide no mysteries. 
Life is almost wholly in the open air ; every household 
sits at its own threshold, breakfasts, dines, and quarrels 
there. No one can pass along the street without being 
examined ; in fact former^, when a stranger entered 
a provincial town he was bantered and made game of 


6 


EugSnie Grandet. 


from door to door. From this came many good stories, 
and the nickname copieux^ which was applied to the 
inhabitants of Angers, who excelled in such urban 
sarcasms. 

The ancient mansions of the old town of Saumur 
are at the top of this hilly street, and were formerly 
occupied by the nobility of the- neighborhood. The 
melancholy dwelling where the events of the following 
history took place is one of these mansions, — venerable 
relics of a century in which men and things bore the 
characteristics of simplicity which French manners and 
customs are losing day by da}^ ilFollow the windings 
of the picturesque thoroughfare, whose irregularities 
awaken recollections that plunge the mind mechanically 
into re very, and j’ou will see a somewhat dark recess, 
in the centre of which is hidden the door of the house 
of Monsieur Grandet. It is impossible to understand 
the force of this provincial expression — the house of 
Monsieur Grandet — without giving the biography of 
Monsieur Grandet himself. 

Monsieur Grandet enjoyed a reputation in Saumur 
whose causes and effects can never be fully understood 
b}" those who have not, at one time or another, lived 
in the provinces. In 1789 Monsieur Grandet — still 
called by certain persons le Pere Grandet, though the 
number of such old persons has perceptibly diminished 
— was a master-cooper, able to read, write, and cipher. 


Euginie GrandeU 


7 


At the period when the- French Eepublic offered for 
sale the church property in the arrondissement of Sau- 
miir, the cooper, then forty years of age, had just mar- 
ried the daughter of a rich wood-merchant. Supplied 
with the ready money of his own fortune and his wife’s 
dot^ in all about two thousand louis-d’or, Grandet went 
to the newly established “ district,” where, with the help 
of two hundred double louis given b}^ his father-in-law 
to the surly republican who presided over the sales of 
the national domain, he obtained for a song, legally 
if not legitimately, one of the finest vineyards in the 
arrondissement, an old abbey, and several farmsi The 
inhabitants of Saumur were so little revolutionary that 
they thought Pere Grandet a bold man, a republican, and 
a patriot with a mind open to all the new ideas ; though 
in point of fact it was open only to vine3’ards. He was 
appointed a member of the administration of Saumur, 
and his pacific influence made itself felt politically and 
commercialty. Politically, he protected the ci-devant 
nobles, and prevented, to the extent of his power, the 
sale of the lands and property of the emigres; com- 
mercialty, he furnished the Republican armies with two 
or three thousand puncheons of white wine, and took 
his pay in splendid fields belonging to a community of 
women whose lands had been reserved for the last lot. 

Under the Consulate Grandet became ma^w, gov- 
erned wisely, and harvested still better pickings. 


8 


EugSnie Grandet, 


Under the Empire he was called Monsieur Grandet. 
Napoleon, however, did not like republicans, and su- 
perseded Monsieur Grandet (who was supposed to have 
worn the Phrygian cap) by a man of his own surround- 
ings, a future baron of the Empire. Monsieur Grandet 
quitted office without regret. He had constructed in 
the interests of the town certain fine roads which led to 
his own property ; his house and lands, very advan- 
tageously assessed, paid moderate taxes ; and since the 
registration of his various estates, the vineyards, thanks 
to his constant care, had become the “head of the 
country,” — a local term used to denote those that pro- 
duced the finest quality of wine. He might have asked 
for the cross of the Legion of honor. 

This event occurred in 1806. Monsieur Grandet was 
then fifty-seven years of age, his wife thirty-six, and an 
only daughter, the fruit of their legitimate love, was 
ten years old. Monsieur Grandet, whom Providence 
no doubt desired to compensate for the loss of his 
municipal honors, inherited three fortunes in the course 
of this 3 ’ear, — that of Madame de la Gaudiniere, born 
de la Bertelliere, the mother of Madame Grandet ; that 
of old Monsieur de la Bertelliere, her grandfather ; and, 
lastly, that of Madame Gentillet, her grandmother on 
the mother’s side : three inheritances, whose amount 
was not known to any one. The avarice of the de- 
ceased persons was so keen that for a long time they 


EugSnie Grandet. 


9 


had hoarded their money for the pleasure of secretly 
looking at it. Old Monsieur de la Bertelliere called an 
investment an extravagance, and thought he got better 
interest from the sight of his gold than from the profits 
of usury. The inhabitants of Saumur consequently 
estimated his savings according to “the revenues of 
the sun’s wealth,” as they said. 

Monsieur Grandet thus obtained that modern title of 
nobility which our mania for equality can never rub out. 
He became the most imposing personage in the arron- 
dissement. He worked a hundred acres of vineyard, 
which in fruitful years yielded seven or eight hundred 
hogsheads of wine. He owned thirteen farms, an old 
abbe}^, whose windows and arches he had walled up for 
the sake of economj^ — a measure which preserved them, 
— also a hundred and twenty-seven acres of meadow- 
land, where three thousand poplars, planted in 1793, 
grew and flourished ; and finally, the house in which 
he lived. Such was his visible estate ; as to his other 
propertj^, only two persons could give even a vague 
guess at its value: one was Monsieur Cruchot, a 
notary employed in the usurious investments of Mon- 
sieur Grandet ; the other was Monsieur des Grassius, 
the richest banker in Saumur, in whose profits Grandet 
had a certain covenanted and secret share. 

Although old Cruchot and Monsieur des Grassins 
were both gifted with the deep discretion which wealth 


10 Eugenie Grandet, 

and trust beget in the provinces, they publiclj^ testified 
so much respect to Monsieur Grandet that observers 
estimated the amount of his property by the obsequi- 
ous attention which they bestowed upon him. In all 
Saumur there was no one not persuaded that Monsieur 
Grandet had a private treasure, some hiding-place full 
of louis, where he nightly took ineffable delight in 
gazing upon great masses of gold. Avaricious people 
gathered proof of this when they looked at the eyes of 
the good man, to which the yellow metal seemed to 
have conveyed its tints. The glance of a man ac- 
customed to draw enormous interest from his capital 
acquires, like that of the libertine, the gambler, or the 
sycophant, certain indefinable habits, — furtive, eager, 
mysterious movements, which never escape the notice 
of his co-religionists. This secret language is in a cer- 
tain way the freemasonry of the passions. Monsieur 
Grandet inspired the respectful esteem due to one who 
owed no man an 3 ^thing, who, skilful cooper and expe- 
rienced wine-grower that he was, guessed with the 
precision of an astronomer whether he ought to manu- 
facture a thousand puncheons for his vintage or only 
five hundred, who never failed in any speculation, and 
always had casks for sale when casks were worth more 
than the commodity that filled them, who could store 
his whole vintage in his cellars and bide his time to 
put the puncheons on the market at two hundred 


EugSnie Grandet, 


11 


francs, when the little proprietors had been forced to 
sell theirs for five louis. His famous vintage of 1811, 
judiciously stored and slowly disposed of, brought 
him in more than two hundred and forty thousand 
francs. 

Financially speaking. Monsieur Grandet was some- 
thing between a tiger and a boa-constrictor. He could 
crouch and lie low, watch his prey a long while, spring 
upon it, open his jaws, swallow a mass of louis, and 
then rest tranquilly like a snake in process of digestion, 
impassible, methodical, and cold. No one saw him pass 
without a feeling of admiration mingled with respect 
and fear ; had not every man in Saumur felt the rending 
of those polished steel claws? For this one, Maitre 
Cruchot had procured the money required for the pur- 
chase of a domain, but at eleven per cent. For that 
one. Monsieur des Grassins discounted bills of ex- 
change, but at a frightful deduction of interest. Few 
da^^s ever passed that Monsieur Grandet’s name was 
not mentioned either in the markets or in social conver- 
sations at the evening gatherings. To some the fortune 
of the old wine-grower was an object of patriotic pride. 
More than one merchant, more than one innkeeper, 
said to strangers with a certain complacency: “Mon- 
sieur, we have two or three millionnaire establishments ; 
but as for Monsieur Grandet, he does not himself know 
how much he is worth.” 


12 Euginie Grrandet, 

In 1816 the best reckoners in Saumur estimated the 
landed property of the worthy man at nearly four mil- 
lions ; but as, on an average, he had made yearly, from 
1793 to 1817, a hundred thousand francs out of that 
property, it was fair to presume that he possessed in 
actual money a sum nearly equal to the value of his 
estate. So that when, after a, game at boston or an 
evening discussion on the matter of vines, the talk fell 
upon Monsieur Grandet, knowing people said: “Le 
Pere Grandet ? le Pere Grandet must have at least 
five or six millions.” 

“You are cleverer than I am; I have never been 
able to find out the amount,” answered Monsieur Cru- 
chot or Monsieur des Grassins, when either chanced 
to overhear the remark. 

If some Parisian mentioned Rothschild or Monsieur 
Lafitte, the people of Saumur asked if he were as 
rich as Monsieur Grandet. When the Parisian, with a 
smile, tossed them a disdainful affirmative, they looked 
at each other and shook their heads with an incredulous 
air. So large a fortune covered with a golden mantle 
all the actions of this man. If in early days some 
peculiarities of his life gave occasion for laughter or 
ridicule, laughter and ridicule had long died away. His 
least important actions had the authority of results re- 
peatedly shown. His speech, his clothing, his gestures, 
the blinking of his eyes, were law to the country-side. 


EugSnie Grandet, 


13 


where every one, after studying him as a naturalist 
studies the result of instinct in the lower animals, 
had come to understand the deep mute wisdom of his 
slightest actions. 

“It will be a hard winter,” said one ; “ Pere Grandet 
has put on his fur gloves.” 

“ Pere Grandet is buying quantities of staves ; there 
will be plenty of wine to year.” 

^ Monsieur Grandet never bought either bread or meat. 
His farmers supplied him weekly with a sufficiency of 
capons, chickens, eggs, butter, and his tithe of 7rL3at. 
He owned a mill ; and the tenant was bound, over and 
above his rent, to take a certain quantity of grain and 
return him the flour and bran. La Grande Nanon, his 
only servant, though she was no longer young, baked 
the bread of the household herself every Saturday. 
Monsieur Grandet arranged with kitchen-gardeners who 
were his tenants to supply him with vegetables. As 
to fruits, he gathered such quantities that he sold the 
greater part in the market. His fire-wood was cut from 
his own hedgerows or taken from the haK-rotten old 
sheds which he built at the corners of jis fields, and 
whose planks the farmers carted into town for him, all 
cut up, and obligingly stacked in his wood-house, re- 
ceiving in return his thanks. His only known expendi- 
tures were for the consecrated bread, the clothing of 
his wife and daughter, the hire of their chairs in church, 


14 


) 


EugSnie Grandet, 

the wages of la Grande Nanon, the tinning of the 
saucepans, lights, taxes, repairs on his buildings, and 
the costs of his various industries. He had six hun- 
dred acres of woodland, lately purchased, which he 
induced a neighbor’s keeper to watch, under the prom- 
ise of an indemnity. After the acquisition of this 
property he ate game for the first time. 

Monsieur Grandet’s manners were very simple. He 
spoke little. He usually expressed his meaning by 
short sententious phrases uttered in a soft voice. After 
the 3? evolution, the epoch at which he first came into 
notice, the good man stuttered in a wearisome waj^ as 
soon as he was required to speak at length or to main- 
tain an argument. This stammering, the incoherence 
of his language, the flux of words in which he drowned 
his thought, his apparent lack of logic, attributed to 
defects of education, were in reality assumed, and will 
be sufficiently explained by certain events in the fol- 
lowing history. Four sentences, precise as algebraic 
formulae, sufficed him usually to grasp and solve all 
difficulties '>f life and commerce: “I don’t know; 
I cannot ; I w’U not ; I will see about it.” He never 
said yes, or no. and never committed himself to 
writing. If people talked to him he listened coldl}", 
holding his chin in his right hand and resting his right 
elbow on the back of his left hand, forming in his own 
mind opinions on all matters, from which he never 


Eugenie Grandet, 


15 


receded. He reflected long before making any business 
agreement. When his opponent, after careful conver- 
sation, avowed the secret of his own purposes, confi- 
dent that he had secured his listener’s assent, Grandet 
answered: can decide nothing without consulting 

my wife.” His wife, whom he had reduced to a state 
of helpless slavery, was a useful screen to him in busi- 
ness. He went nowhere among friends ; he neither 
gave nor accepted dinners ; he made no stir or noise, 
seeming to economize in everything, even movement. 
He never disturbed or disarranged the things of other 
people, out of respect for the rights of property. Never- 
theless, in spite of his soft voice, in spite of his cir- 
cumspect bearing, the language and habits of a coarse 
nature came to the surface, especially in his own home, 
where he controlled himself less than elsewhere. 

Physically, Grandet was a man five feet high, thick- 
set, square-built, with calves twelve inches in circum- 
ference, knotted knee-joints, and broad shoulders ; his 
face was round, tanned, and pitted by the small-pox ; 
his chin was straight, his lips had no curves, his teeth 
were white ; his eyes had that calm, devouring expres- 
sion which people attribute to the basilisk ; his fore- 
head, full of transverse wrinkles, was not without 
certain significant protuberances ; his 3’ellow-grayish 
hair was said to be silver and gold by certain young 
people who did not realize the impropriety of making 


16 


EugSnie G-randet, 


a jest about Monsieur Grandet. His nose, thick at 
the end, bore a veined wen, which the common people 
said, not without reason, was full of malice. The 
whole countenance showed a dangerous cunning, an 
integrity without warmth, the egotism of a man long 
used to concentrate every feeling upon the enjoyments 
of avarice and upon the onlj' human being who was 
anything whatever to him, — his daughter and sole 
heiress, Eugenie. Attitude, manners, bearing, eveiy- 
thing about him, in short, testified to that belief in 
himself which the habit of succeeding in all enterprises 
never fails to give to a man. ^ 

Thus, though his manners were unctuous and soft 
outwardly. Monsieur Grandefs nature was of iron. 
His dress never varied ; and those who saw him to-day 
saw him such as he had been since 1791. His stout 
shoes were tied with leathern thongs ; he wore, in all 
weathers, thick woollen stockings, short breeches of 
coarse maroon cloth with silver buckles, a velvet waist- 
coat, in alternate stripes of j-ellow and puce, buttoned 
squarel}’, a large maroon coat with wide flaps, a black 
cravat, and a quaker’s hat. His gloves, thick as 
those of a gendarme, lasted him twenty months ; to 
preserve them, he alwaj^s laid them methodically on 
the brim of his hat in one particular spot, ^aumur 
knew nothing further about this personage. 

Only six individuals had a right of entrance to 


Eugenie Grandet, 


17 


Monsieur Grandet’s house. The most important of 
the first three was a nephew of Monsieur Cruchot. 
Since his appointment as president of the Civil courts 
of Saumur this young man had added the name of 
Bonfons to that of Cruchot. He now signed himself 
C. de Bonfons. Any litigant so ill-advised as to call 
him Monsieur Cruchot would soon be made to feel his 
folly in court. The magistrate protected those who 
called him Monsieur le president, but he favored with 
gracious smiles those who addressed him as Monsieur 
de Bonfons. Monsieur le president was thirty-three 
3"ears old, and possessed the estate of Bonfons (Boni 
Fontis), worth seven thousand francs a 3^ear; he ex- 
pected to inherit the property of his uncle the notary 
and that of another uncle, the Abbe Cruchot, a dig- 
nitary of the chapter of Saint-Martin de Tours, both 
of whom were thought to be very rich. These three 
Cruchots, backed by a goodly number of cousins, and 
allied to twenty families in the town, formed a party, 
like the Medici in Florence ; like the Medici, the 
Cruchots had their Pazzi. 

Madame des Grassins, mother of a son twenty-three 
3"ears of age, came assiduously to play cards with 
Madame Grandet, hoping to marrj" her dear Adolphe 
to Mademoiselle Eugenie. Monsieur des Grassins, the 
banker, vigorously promoted the schemes of his wife by 
means of secret services constantly rendered to the 
2 


18 


Eugenie GrandeL 


old miser, and always arrived in time upon the field 
of battle. The three des Grassins likewise had their 
adherents, their cousins, their faithful allies. On the 
Cruchot side the abbe, the Talleyrand of the family, 
well backed-up by his brother the notary, sharply con- 
tested every inch of ground with his female adversary, 
and tried to obtain the rich heiress for his nephew the 
president. 

This secret warfare between the Cruchots and the des 
Grassins, the prize thereof being the hand in marriage 
of Eugenie Grandet, kept the various social circles of 
Saumur in violent agitation. Would Mademoiselle 
Grandet marry Monsieur le president or Monsieur 
Adolphe des Grassins ? To this problem some replied 
that Monsieur Grandet would never give his daughter to 
the one or to the other. The old cooper, eaten up with 
ambition, was looking, they said, for a peer of France, 
to whom an income of three hundred thousand francs 
would make all the past, present, and future casks of 
the Grande ts acceptable. Others replied that Mon- 
sieur and Madame des Grassins were nobles, and 
exceedingly rich ; that Adolphe was a personable young 
fellow ; and that unless the old man had a nephew of 
the pope at his beck and call, such a suitable alliance 
ought to satisfy a man who came from nothing, — a 
man whom Saumur remembered with an adze in his 
hand, and who had, moreover, worn the bonnet rouge. 


EugSnie Crrandet, 19 

Certain wise heads called attention to the fact that 
Monsieur Cruchot de Bonfons had the right of entry 
to the house at all times, whereas his rival was received 
only on Sundays. Others, however, maintained that 
Madame des Grassins was more intimate with the 
women of the house of Grandet than the Cruchots were, 
and could put into their minds certain ideas which 
would lead, sooner or later, to success. To this the 
former retorted that the Abbe Cruchot was the most 
insinuating man in the world : pit a woman against 
a monk, and the struggle was even. “It is diamond 
cut diamond,’’ said a Saumur wit. 

The oldest inhabitants, wiser than their fellows, 
declared that the Grandets knew better than to let the 
property go out of the family, and that Mademoiselle 
Eugenie Grandet of Saumur would be married to the 
son of Monsieur Grandet of Paris, a wealthy wholesale 
wine-merchant. To this the Cruchotines and the Gras- 
sinists replied: “In the first place, the two brothers 
have seen each other only twice in thirty years ; and 
next. Monsieur Grandet of Paris has ambitious designs 
for his son. He is mayor of an arrondissement, a 
deputy, colonel of the National Guard, judge in the 
commercial courts ; he disowns the Grandets of Saumur, 
and means to ally himself with some ducal family, — 
ducal under favor of Napoleon.” In short, was there 
anything not said of an heiress who was talked of 


20 


Eugenie Grandet, 


through a circumference of fifty miles, and even in the 
public conveyances from Angers to Blois, inclusively ! 

At the beginning of 1811, the Cruchotines won a sig- 
nal advantage over the Grassinists. The estate of Froid- 
fond, remarkable for its park, its mansion, its farms, 
streams, ponds, forests, and worth about three millions, 
was put up for sale by the young Marquis de Froidfond, 
who was obliged to liquidate his possessions. Maitre 
Cruchot, the president, and the abbe, aided by their 
adherents, were able to prevent the sale of the estate 
in little lots. The notary concluded a bargain with 
the 3’oung man for the whole property, payable in gold, 
persuading him that suits without number would have 
to be brought against the purchasers of small lots 
before-he could get the money for them ; it was better, 
therefore, to sell the whole to Monsieur Grandet, who 
was solvent and able to pay for the estate in ready 
money. The fine marquisate of Froidfond was accord- 
ingly conveyed down the gullet of Monsieur Grandet, 
who, to the great astonishment of Saumur, paid for it, 
under proper discount, with the usual formalities. 

This afiair echoed from Nantes to Orleans. Monsieur 
Grandet took advantage of a cart returning by way 
of Froidfond to go and see his chateau. Having cast 
a master’s eye over the whole property, he returned 
to Saumur, satisfied that he had invested his money 
at five per cent, and seized by the stupendous thought 


Eugenie Grandet. 


21 


of extending and increasing the marquisate of Froid- 
fond by concentrating all his property there. Then, 
to fill up his coffers, now nearly empty, he resolved to 
thin out his woods and his forests, and to sell off the 
poplars in the meadows. 


22 


Eugenie QrandeU 


II. 


It is now easy to understand the full meaning of 
the term, “ the house of Monsieur Grandet,” — 
that cold, silent, pallid dwelling, standing above the 
town and sheltered by the ruins of the ramparts. 
The two pillars and the arch, which made the porte- 
cochere on which the door opened, were built, like the 
house itself, of tufa, — a white stone peculiar to the 
shores of the Loire, and so soft that it lasts hardly 
more than two centuries. Numberless irregular holes, 
capriciously bored or eaten out by the inclemency of 
the weather, gave an appearance of the vermiculated 
stonework of French architecture to the arch and the 
side walls of this entrance, which bore some resem- 
blance to the gateway of a jail. Above the arch was 
a long bas-relief, in hard stone, representing the four 
seasons, the faces already crumbling away and black- 
ened. This bas-relief was surmounted by a projecting 
plinth, upon which a variety of chance growths had 
sprung up, — yellow pellitory, bindweed, convolvuli, 
nettles, plantain, and even a little cherry-tree, abeady 
grown to some height. 


Euginie Grrandet. 


23 


The door of the archway was made of solid oak, 
brown, shrunken, and split in many places ; though 
frail in appearance, it was firmly held in place b}^ a 
system of iron bolts arranged in sj-mmetrical patterns. 
A small square grating, with close bars red with rust, 
filled up the middle panel and made, as it were, a 
motive for the knocker, fastened to it by a ring, which 
struck upon the grinning head of a huge nail. This 
knocker, of the oblong shape and kind which our an- 
cestors called jaquemart^ looked like a huge note of 
exclamation ; an antiquary who examined it attentively 
might have found indications of the figure, essentially 
burlesque, which it once represented, and which long 
usage had now effaced. Through this little grating — 
intended in olden times for the recognition of friends 
in times of civil war — inquisitive persons could per- 
ceive, at the farther end of the dark and slimy vault, 
a few broken steps which led to a garden, picturesquely 
shut in by walls that were thick and damp, and through 
which oozed a moisture that nourished tufts of sickly 
herbage. These walls were the ruins of the ramparts, 
under which ranged the gardens of several neighboring 
houses. 

The most important room on the ground-floor of the 
house was a large hall, entered directly from beneath 
the vault of the porte-cochere. Few people know the 
importance of a hall in the little towns of Anjou, Tou- 


24 


JEugSnie Grandet. 


raine, and Berry. The hall is at one and the same time 
antechamber, salon, office, boudoir, and dining-room ; 
it is the theatre of domestic life, the common living- 
room. There the barber of the neighborhood came, 
twice a year, to cut Monsieur Grandet’s hair; there 
the farmers, the cur4, the under-prefect, and the miller’s 
boy came on business. This room, with two windows 
looking on the street, was entirely of wood. Gray panels 
with ancient mouldings covered the walls from top to 
bottom ; the ceiling showed all its beams, which were 
likewise painted gray, while the space between them 
had been washed over in white, now yellow with age. 
An old brass clock, inlaid with arabesques, adorned the 
mantel of the ill-cut white stone chimney-piece, above 
which was a greenish mirror, whose edges, bevelled to 
show the thickness of the glass, reflected a thread of 
light the whole length of a gothic frame in damascened 
steel- work. The two copper-gilt candelabra which dec- 
orated the comers of the chimney-piece served a double 
purpose : by taking off the side-branches, each of which 
held a socket, the main stem — which was fastened to a 
pedestal of bluish marble tipped with copper — made a 
candlestick for one candle, which was sufficient for or- 
dinary occasions. The chairs, antique in shape, were 
covered with tapestry representing the fables of La 
Fontaine ; it was necessary, however, to know that 
writer well to guess at the subjects, for the faded colors 


EugSnie Grandet. 25 

and the figures, blurred by much darning, were difficult 
to distinguish. 

At the four corners of the hall were closets, or rather X 
buflTets, surmounted by dirty shelves. An old card- 
table in marquetry, of which the upper part was a 
chess-board, stood in the space between the two win- 
dows. Above this table was an oval barometer with a 
black border enlivened with gilt bands, on which the 
flies had so licentiously disported themselves that the 
gilding had become problematical. On the panel oppo- 
site to the chimney-piece were two portraits in pastel, 
supposed to represent the grandfather of Madame Gran- 
det, old Monsieur de la Bertelliere, as a lieutenant in 
the French guard, and the deceased Madame Gentillet 
in the guise of a shepherdess. The windows were 
draped with curtains of red gros de Tours held back by 
silken cords with ecclesiastical tassels. This luxurious 
decoration, little in keeping with the habits of Monsieur 
Grandet, had been, together with the steel pier-glass, 
the tapestries, and the buffets, which were of rose-wood, 
included in the purchase of the house. 

By the window nearest to the door stood a straw chair, 
whose legs were raised on castors to lift its occupant, 
Madame Grandet, to a height from which she could see 
the passers-by. A work-table of stained cherry-wood 
filled up the embrasure, and the little armchair of 
Eugenie Grandet stood beside it. In this spot the lives 


26 


EugSnie GrandeL 


of mother and daughter had flowed peacefully onward 
for fifteen years, in a round of constant work from the 
month of April to the month of November. On the 
first day of the latter month they took their winter 
station by the chimney. Not until that day did Gran- 
det permit a fire to be lighted ; and on the thirty-first 
of March it was extinguished, without regard either to 
the chills of the early spring or to those of a wintry 
autumn. A foot-warmer, filled with embers from the 
kitchen fire, which la Grande Nanon contrived to save 
for them, enabled Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet 
to bear the chilly mornings and evenings of April and 
October. Mother and daughter took charge of the 
family linen, and spent their days so conscientiously 
upon a labor properly that of working- women, that if 
Eugenie wished to embroider a collar for her mother 
she was forced to take the time from sleep, and deceive 
her father to obtain the necessary light. For a long 
time the miser had given out the tallow candle to his 
daughter and la Grande Nanon just as he gave out 
every morning the bread and other necessaries for the 
dail3^ consumption. 

La Grande Nanon was perhaps the only human being 
capable of accepting willingly the despotism of her 
master. The whole town envied Monsieur and Madame 
Grandet the possession of her. La Grande Nanon, so 
called on account of her height, which was five feet 


Euginie Grandet, 


27 


eight inches, had lived with Monsieur Grandet for 
thirty-five years. Though she received only sixty 
francs a year in wages, she was supposed to be one 
of the richest serving-women in Saumur. Those sixty 
francs, accumulating through thirty-five years, had re- 
cently enabled her to invest four thousand francs in an 
annuity with Maitre Cruchot. This result of her long 
and persistent economy seemed gigantic. Every ser- 
vant in the town, seeing that the poor sexagenarian was 
sure of bread for her old age, was jealous of her, and 
never thought of the hard slavery through which it had 
been won. 

At twenty-two years of age the poor girl had been 
unable to find a situation, so repulsive was her face 
to almost every one. Yet the feeling was certainly 
unjust : the face would have been much admired on the 
shoulders of a grenadier of the guard ; but all things, 
so they say, should be in keeping. Forced to leave a 
farm where she kept the cows, because the dwelling- 
house was burned down, she came to Saumur to find 
a place, full of the robust courage that shrinks from no 
labor. Le Pere Grandet was at that time thinking of 
marriage and about to set up his household. He espied 
the girl, rejected as she was from door to door. A 
good judge of corporeal strength in his trade as a 
cooper, he guessed the work that might be got out of a 
female creature shaped like a Hercules, as firm on her 


28 


EugSnie Grandet 


feet as an oak sixty years old on its roots, strong in the 
hips, square in the back, with the hands of a cartman 
and an honest}^ as sound as her unblemished virtue. 
Neither the warts which adorned her martial visage, 
nor the red-brick tints of her skin, nor the sinewy arms, 
nor the ragged garments of la Grande Nanon, dismaj^ed 
the cooper, who was at that time still of an age when 
the heart shudders. He fed, shod, and clothed the poor 
girl, gave her wages, and put her to work without treat- 
ing her too roughly. Seeing herself thus welcomed, la 
Grande Nanon secretly wept tears of joy, and attached 
herself in all sincerity to her master, who from that day 
ruled her and worked her with feudal authority. Nanon 
did everything. She cooked, she made the lye, she 
washed the linen in the Loire and brought it home on 
her shoulders ; she got up earlj^ she went to bed late ; 
she prepared the food of the vine-dressers during the 
harvest, kept watch upon the market-people, protected 
the property of her master like a faithful dog, and 
even, full of blind confidence, obej^ed without a murmur 
his most absurd exactions. 

In the famous 3 ’ear of 1811, when the grapes were 
gathered with unheard-of difficulty, Grandet resolved 
to give Nanon his old watch, — the first present he had 
made her during twenty 3 "ears of service. Though he 
turned over to her his old shoes (which fitted her), it is 
impossible to consider that quarterly benefit as a gift, 


EugSnie Grandet, 


29 


for the shoes were always thoroughly worn-out. Neces- 
sity had made the poor girl so niggardly that Grandet 
had grown to love her as we love a dog, and Nanon 
had let him fasten a spiked collar round her throat, 
whose spikes no longer pricked her. If Grandet cut 
the bread with rather too much parsimony, she made 
no complaint ; she gayly shared the hygienic benefits 
derived from the severe regime of the household, in 
which no one was ever ill. Nanon was, in fact, one of 
the family ; she laughed when Grandet laughed, felt 
gloomy or chillj^ warmed herself, and toiled as he 
did. What pleasant compensations there were in such 
equality ! Never did the master have occasion to find 
fault with the servant for pilfering the grapes, nor 
for the plums and nectarines eaten under the trees. 
“ Come, fall-to, Nanon ! ” he would say in years when 
the branches bent under the fruit and the farmers 
were obliged to give it to the pigs. 

To the poor peasant who in her youth had earned 
nothing but harsh treatment, to the pauper girl picked 
up by charity, Grandet’s ambiguous laugh was like a 
sunbeam. Moreover, Nanon’s simple heart and narrow 
head could hold only one feeling and one idea. For 
thirty-five years she had never ceased to see herself 
standing before the wood-yard of Monsieur Grandet, 
ragged and barefooted, and to hear him say: “What 
do you want, young one?” Her gratitude was ever 


30 


EugSnie GrandeL 


new. Sometimes Grandet, reflecting that the poor 
creature had never heard a flattering word, that she 
was ignorant of all the tender sentiments inspired by 
women, that she might some day appear before the 
throne of God even more chaste than the Virgin Mary 
herself, — Grandet, struck with pity, would say as he 
looked at her, “ Poor Nanon ! ” The exclamation was 
always followed b}" an undefinable look cast upon him 
in return by the old servant. The words, uttered from 
time to time, formed a chain of friendship that nothing 
ever parted, and to which each exclamation added a link. 
Such compassion arising in the heart of the miser, and 
accepted gratefully by the old spinster, had something 
inconceivably horrible about it. This cruel pity, re- 
calling, as it did, a thousand pleasures to the heart of 
the old cooper, was for Nanon the sum total of happi- 
ness. Who does not likewise say, “Poor Nanon!” 
God will recognize his angels by the inflexions of their 
voices and by their secret sighs. 

There were very many households in Saumur where 
the servants were better treated, but where the masters 
received far less satisfaction in return. Thus it was 
often said: “What have the Grandets ever done to 
make their Grande Nanon so attached to them? She 
would go through fire and water for their sake ! ” Her 
kitchen, whose barred windows looked into the court, 
was always clean, neat, cold, — a true miser’s kitchen. 


Eugenie Grandet. 


31 


where nothing went to waste. When Nanon had 
washed her dishes, locked up the remains of the din- 
ner, and put out her fire, she left the kitchen, which 
was separated by a passage from the living-room, and 
went to spin hemp beside her masters^ One tallow 
candle sufficed the family for the evening. The servant 
slept at the end of the passage in a species of closet 
lighted only by a fan-light. Her robust health enabled 
her to live in this hole with impunity ; there she could 
hear the slightest noise through the deep silence which 
reigned night and day in that dreary house. Like a 
watch-dog, she slept with one ear open, and took her 
rest with a mind alert. 

A description of the other parts of the dwelling will 
be found connected with the events of this history, 
though the foregoing sketch of the hall, where the 
whole luxury of the household appears, may enable 
the reader to surmise the nakedness of the upper 
floors. 

In 1819, at the beginning of an evening in the mid- 
dle of November, la Grande Nanon lighted the fire 
for the first time. The autumn had been very fine. 
This particular day was a fete-day well known to the 
Cruchotines and the Grassinists. The six antagonists, 
armed at all points, were making ready to meet at 
the Grandets and surpass each other in testimonials 
of friendship. That morning all Saumur had seen 


32 


EugSnie Qrandet. 


Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet, accompanied by 
Nanon, on their way to hear Mass at the parish 
church, and every one remembered that the day was 
the anniversary of Mademoiselle Eugenie’s birth. 
Calculating the hour at which the family dinner would 
be over, Maitre Cruchot, the Abbe Cruchot, and Mon- 
sieur C. de Bonfons hastened to arrive before the 
des Grassins, and be the first to pay their compliments 
to Mademoiselle Eugenie. All three brought enormous 
bouquets, gathered in their little green-houses. The 
stalks of the fiowers which the president intended to 
present were ingeniously wound round with a white 
satin ribbon adorned with gold fringe. In the morn- 
ing Monsieur Grandet, following his usual custom on 
the days that commemorated the birth and the fete of 
Eugenie, went to her bedside and solemnly presented her 
with his paternal gift, — which for the last thirteen years 
had consisted regularly of a curious gold-piece. Madame 
Grandet gave her daughter a winter dress or a summer 
dress, as the case might be. These two dresses and the 
gold-pieces, of which she received two others on New 
Year’s da}^ and on her father’s fete-da}^, gave Eugenie a 
little revenue of a hundred crowns or thereabout, which 
Grandet loved to see her amass. Was it not putting 
his money from one strong-box into another, and, as it 
were, training the parsimony of his heiress ? from whom 
he sometimes demanded an account of her treasure 


EugSnie Grandet, 


33 


(formerly increased by the gifts of the Bertellieres) , 
sa3ing: “It is to be 3’our marriage dozen.” 

The “marriage dozen” is an old custom sacredly 
preserved and still in force in many parts of central 
France. In Berry and in Anjou, when a young girl 
marries, her family, or that of the husband, must give 
her a purse, in which they place, according to their 
means, twelve pieces, or twelve dozen pieces, or 
twelve hundred pieces of gold. The poorest shepherd- 
girl never marries without her “dozen,” be it only 
a dozen coppers. The3’ still tell in Issoudun of a 
certain “dozen” presented to a rich heiress, which 
contained a hundred and fort3^-four portugaises d'or. 
Pope Clement VII., uncle of Catherine de’ Medici, 
gave her when he married her to Henri II. a dozen 
antique gold medals of priceless value. 

During dinner the father, delighted to see his Eu- 
genie looking well in a new gown, exclaimed : “As it 
is Eugenie’s birthday let us have a fire ; it will be a 
good omen.” 

“Mademoiselle will be married this year, that’s 
certain,” said la Grande Nanon, carrying away 
the remains of the goose, — the pheasant of trades- 
men. 

“I don’t see any one suitable for her in Saumur,” 
said Madame Grandet, glancing at her husband with 
a timid look which, considering her years, revealed 

3 


34 Eugenie Cirandet, 

the conjugal slavery under which the poor woman 
languished. 

Grandet looked at his daughter and exclaimed 
gayly, — 

“ She is twenty-three years old to-day, the child ; we 
must soon begin to think of it.’* 

Eugenie and her mother silently exchanged a glance 
of intelligence. 

Madame Grandet was a dry, thin woman, as yellow 
as a quince, awkward, slow, one of those women who 
are born to be down-trodden. She had big bones, a 
big nose, a big forehead, big eyes, and presented at first 
sight a vague resemblance to those mealy fruits that 
have neither savor nor succulence. Her teeth were 
black and few in number, her mouth was wrinkled, her 
chin long and pointed. She was an excellent woman, 
a true la Bertelliere. L’abbe Cruchot found occasional 
opportunity to tell her that she had not done ill ; and 
she believed him. Angelic sweetness, the resignation 
of an insect tortured by children, a rare piety, a good 
heart, an unalterable equanimity of soul, made her 
universally pitied and respected. Her husband never 
gave her more than six francs at a time for her per- 
sonal expenses. Ridiculous as it may seem, this 
woman, who by her own fortune and her various inheri- 
tances brought Pere Grandet more than three hun- 
dred thousand francs, had always felt so profoundly 


EugSnie Grrandet, 


35 


humiliated by her dependence and the slavery in which 
she lived, against which the gentleness of her spirit 
prevented her from revolting, that she had never asked 
for one penny or made a single remark on the deeds 
which Maitre Cruchot brought for her signature. This 
foolish secret pride, this nobility of soul perpetually 
misunderstood and wounded by Grandet, ruled the 
whole conduct of the wife. 

Madame Grandet was attired habitually in a gown 
of greenish levantine silk, endeavoring to make it last 
nearly a year ; with it she wore a large kerchief of white 
cotton cloth, a bonnet made of plaited straws sewn to- 
gether, and almost alwaj’S a black-silk apron. As she 
seldom left the house she wore out very few shoes. She 
never asked anything for herself. Grandet, seized with 
occasional remorse when he remembered how long a 
time had elapsed since he gave her the last six francs, 
always stipulated for the “wife’s pin-money” when he 
sold his yearly vintage. The four or five louis pre- 
sented by the Belgian or the Dutchman who purchased 
the wine were the chief visible signs of Madame Gran- 
det’s annual revenues. But after she had received the 
five louis, her husband would often say to her, as though 
their purse were held in common: “Can you lend 
me a few sous?” and the poor woman, glad to be 
able to do something for a man whom her confessor 
held up to her as her lord and master, returned him in 


36 Eugenie Grandet 

the course of the winter several crowns out of tht 
“pin-money.” When Grandet drew from his pocket 
the five-franc piece which he allowed monthly for the 
minor expenses, — thread, needles, and toilet, — of his 
daughter, he never failed to say as he buttoned his 
breeches’ pocket: “And 3W, mother, do 3^ou want 
anything ? ” 

“ My friend,” Madame Grandet would answer, moved 
b}" a sense of maternal dignit}^, “ we will see about 
that later.” 

Wasted dignit}^ ! Grandet thought himself very 
generous to his wife. Philosophers who meet the like 
of Nanon, of Madame Grandet, of Eugenie, have surely" 
a right to sa3" that irony is at the bottom of the waj’S 
of Providence. 

After the dinner at which for the first time allusion 
had been made to Eugenie’s marriage, Nanon went to 
fetch a bottle of black-currant ratafia from Monsieur 
Grandet’s bed-chamber, and nearly fell as she came 
down the stairs. 

“You great stupid!” said her master; “are you 
going to tumble about like other people, hey?” 

“ Monsieur, it was that step on ^^our staircase which 
has given way.” 

“She is right,” said Madame Grandet; “ it ought 
to have been mended long ago. Yesterday Eugenie 
nearly twisted her ankle.” 


EugSnie Qrandet. 


37 


“ Here,” said Grandet to Nanon, seeing that she 
looked quite pale, “as it is Eugenie's birthday, and 3"Ou 
came near falling, take a little glass of ratafia to set 
3^ou right.” 

“ Faith ! I 've earned it,” said Nanon ; “ most people 
would have broken the bottle ; but I ’d sooner have 
broken mj^ elbow holding it up high.” 

“ Poor Nanon ! ” said Grandet, filling a glass. 

“Did 3"ou hurt yourself?” asked Eugenie, looking 
kindly" at her. 

“No, I didn’t fall; I threw m^’self back on my 
haunches.” 

“Well! as it’s Eugenie’s birthday,” said Grandet, 
“I’ll have the step mended. You people don’t know 
how to set 3"Our foot in the corner where the wood is 
still firm.” 

Grandet took the candle, leaving his wife, daugh- 
ter, and servant without any other light than that 
from the hearth, where the flames were lively, and 
went into the bakehouse to fetch planks, nails, and 
tools. 

“ Can I help you?” cried Nanon, hearing him ham- 
mer on the stairs. 

“No, no! I’m an old hand at it,” answered the 
former cooper. 

At the moment when Grandet was mending his 
worm-eaten staircase and whistling with all his might. 


38 


EugSnie Grandet. 


in remembrance of the days of his youth, the three 
Cruchots knocked at the door. 

“Is it 3’ou, Monsieur Cruchot?” asked Nanon, 
peeping through the little grating. 

“Yes,” answered the president. 

Nanon opened the door, and the light from the 
hearth, reflected on the ceiling, enabled the three 
Cruchots to find their way into the room. 

“Ha! you’ve come a-greeting,” said Nanon, smell- 
ing the flowers. 

“ Excuse me, messieurs,” cried Grandet, recognizing 
their voices; “I’ll be with j’ou in a moment. I’m 
not proud ; I am patching up a step on my staircase.” 

“Go on, go on, Monsieur Grandet; a man’s house 
is his castle,” said the president sententiousl3^ 

Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet rose. The 
president, profiting b}" the darkness, said to Eugenie : 

“ Will you permit me, mademoiselle, to wish you, 
on this the day of your birth, a series of happy years 
and the continuance of the health which you now 
enjoy ?” 

He offered her a huge bouquet of choice flowers 
which were rare in Saumur; then, taking the heh’ess 
b}’ the elbows, he kissed her on each side of her neck 
with a complacency that made her blush. The presi- 
dent, who looked like a rusty iron nail, felt that his 
courtship was progressing. 


Euginie Grandet, 


39 


“ Don’t stand on ceremony,” said Grandet, entering. 
“ How well you do things on fete-days, Monsieur le 
president ! ” 

“ When it concerns mademoiselle,” said the abbe, 
armed with his own bouquet, “ every day is a fete-day 
for my nephew.” 

The abbe kissed Eugenie’s hand. As for Maitre 
Cruchot, he boldly kissed her on both cheeks, remark- 
ing : How we sprout up, to be sure ! Every year is 
twelve months.” 

As he replaced the candlestick beside the clock, 
Grandet, who never forgot his own jokes, and re- 
peated them to satiety when he thought them funny, 
said, — 

“As this is Eugenie’s birthday let us illuminate.” 

He carefully took off the branches of the candelabra, 
put a socket on each pedestal, took from Nanon a 
new tallow candle with paper twisted round the end 
of it, put it into the hollow, made it firm, lit it, and 
then sat down beside his wife, looking alternately at 
his friends, his daughter, and the two candles. The 
Abbe Cruchot, a plump, puffy little man, with a red 
wig plastered down and a face like an old female 
gambler, said as he stretched out his feet, well shod 
in stout shoes with silver buckles: “The des Grassins 
have not come?” 

“ Not yet,” said Grandet. 


40 


Euginie Grandet, 


“But are they coming?” asked the old notary, 
twisting his face, which had as many holes as a col- 
ander, into a queer grimace. 

“ I think so,” answered Madame Grandet. 

“ Are your vintages all finished? ” said Monsieur de 
Bonfons to Grandet. 

“ Yes, all of them,” answered the old man, rising 
to walk up and down the room, his chest swelling 
with pride as he said the words “all of them.” 
Through the door of the passage which led to the 
kitchen he saw la Grande Nanon sitting beside her 
fire with a candle and preparing to spin there, so as 
not to intrude among the guests. 

“ Nanon,” he said, going into the passage, “put 
out that fire and that candle, and come and sit with us. 
Pardieu ! the hall is big enough for all.” 

“ But, monsieur, you are to have the great people.” 

“ Are not you as good as they? They are descended 
from Adam, and so are you.” 

Grandet came back to the president and said, — 

“ Have you sold your vintage? ” 

“No, not I; I shall keep it. If the wine is good 
this year, it will be better two years hence. The pro- 
prietors, you know, have made an agreement to keep 
up the price ; and this year the Belgians won’t get 
the better of us. Suppose they are sent off empty- 
handed for once, faith ! they ’ll come back.” 


Eugenie Grandet, 


41 


‘‘ Yes, but let us mind what we are about,’’ said 
Grandet in a tone which made the president tremble. 

“ Is he driving some bargain?” thought Cruchot. 

At this moment the knocker announced the des Gras- 
sins family, and their arrival interrupted a conversation 
which had begun between Madame Grandet and the abbe. 

Madame des Grassins was one of those lively, plump 
little women, with pink-and- white skins, who, thanks to 
the claustral calm of the provinces and the habits of a 
virtuous life, keep their j^outh until they are past forty. 
She was like the last rose of autumn, — pleasant to the 
eye, though the petals have a certain frostiness, and 
their perfume is slight. She dressed well, got her fash- 
ions from Paris, set the tone to Saumur, and gave par- 
ties. Her husband, formerly a quartermaster in the 
Imperial guard, who had been desperately wounded at 
Austerlitz, and had since retired, still retained, in spite 
of his respect for Grandet, the seeming frankness of 
an old soldier. 



“Good evening, Grandet,” he said, holding out 
his hand and affecting a sort of superiority, with 
which he always crushed the Cruchots. “Made- 
moiselle,” he added, turning to Eugenie, after bow- 
ing to Madame Grandet, “you are always beautiful 
and good, and truly I do not know what to wish 
you.” So saying, he offered her a little box which 
his servant had brought and which contained a Cape 


42 EugSnie Grrandet 

heather, — a flower lately imported into Europe and 
very rare. 

Madame des Grassins kissed Eug4nie very aflection- 
ately, pressed her hand, and said : “ Adolphe wishes to 
make you my little offering.” 

A tall, blond young man, pale and slight, with toler- 
able manners and seemingly rather shy, although he had 
just spent eight or ten thousand francs over and above 
his allowance in Paris, where he had been sent to study 
law, now came forward and kissed Eugenie on both 
cheeks, offering her a workbox with utensils in silver- 
gilt, — mere show-case ti’umpery, in spite of the mono- 
gram E. G. in gothic letters rather well engraved, which 
belonged properly to something in better taste. As she 
opened it, Eugenie experienced one of those unexpected 
and perfect delights which make a young girl blush and 
quiver and tremble with pleasure. She turned her eyes 
to her father as if to ask permission to accept it, and 
Monsieur Grandet replied: “Take it, my daughter,” 
in a tone which would have made an actor illustrious. 

The three Cruchots felt crushed as they saw the 
joj^ous, animated look cast upon Adolphe des Grassins 
by the heiress, to whom such riches were unheard-of. 
Monsieur des Grassins offered Grandet a pinch of snuff, 
took one himself, shook off the grains as they fell on 
the ribbon of the Legion of honor which was attached 
to the button-hole of his blue surtout ; then he looked at 


Euginie Grandet, 


43 


the Cruchots with an air that seemed to sa}’’, “Parry 
that thrust if you can ! ” Madame des Grassins cast 
her eyes on the blue vases which held the Cruchot 
bouquets, looking at the enemy’s gifts with the pre- 
tended interest of a satirical woman. At this delicate 
juncture the Abb4 Cruchot left the companj^ seated 
in a circle round the fire and joined Grandet at the 
lower end of the hall. As the two men reached the 
embrasure of the farthest window the priest said in 
the miser’s ear: “Those people throw money out of 
the windows.” 

“What does that matter if it gets into my cellar?” 
retorted the old wine-grower. 

“ If you want to give gilt scissors to your daughter, 
you have the means,” said the abbe. 

“ I give her something better than scissors,” answered 
Grandet. 

“My nephew is a blockhead,” thought the abbe as 
he looked at the president, whose rumpled hair added to 
the ill grace of his brown countenance. “ Couldn’t he 
have found some little trifle which cost money ? ” 

“We will join you at cards, Madame Grandet,” said 
Madame des Grassins. 

“We might have two tables, as we are all here.” 

“As it is Eugenie’s birthday you had better play 
loto all together,” said Pere Grandet : “the two young 
ones can join ; ” and the old cooper, who never played 


44 


EugSnie Grandet, 


any game, motioned to his daughter and Adolphe. 
“ Come, Nanon, set the tables.” 

“We will help 3’ou, Mademoiselle Nanon,” said 
Madame des Grassins gayly, quite joj^ous at the joy she 
had given Eugenie. 

“I have never in my life been so pleased,” the heir- 
ess said to her; “I have never seen an^’thing so 
pretty.” 

“Adolphe brought it from Paris, and he chose it,” 
Madame des Grassins whispered in her ear. 

“ Go on ! go on ! damned intriguing thing ! ” thought 
the president. “ If }^ou ever have a suit in court, 3 011 
or 3’our husband, it shall go hard with you.” 

The notary, sitting in his corner, looked calml3" at 
the abbe, sa3dng to himself : ‘ ‘ The des Grassins may 
do what the3" like ; my property and my brother’s and 
that of my nephew amount in all to eleven hundred 
thousand francs. The des Grassins, at the most, have 
not half that ; besides, they have a daughter. The3" ma3^ 
give what presents they like ; heiress and presents too 
will be ours one of these da3"s.” 

At half-past eight in the evening the two card- tables 
were set out. Madame des Grassins succeeded in put- 
ting her son beside Eugenie. The actors in this scene, 
so full of interest, commonplace as it seems, were pro- 
vided with bits of pasteboard striped in man3^ colors 
and numbered, and -yith counters of blue glass, and 


EugSnie Grandet. 


45 


they appeared to be listening to the jokes of the notary, 
who never drew a number without making a remark, 
while in fact they were all thinking of Monsieur Gran- 
de t’s millions. The old cooper, with inward self-conceit, 
was contemplating the pink feathers and the fresh toilet 
of Madame des Grassins, the martial head of the 
banker, the faces of Adolphe, the president, the abbe, 
and the notary, saying to himself, — 

“They are all after my money. Hey! neither the 
one nor the other shall have my daughter; but they 
are useful — useful as harpoons to fish with.” 

This family gayety in the old gray room dimly lighted 
b}^ two tallow candles ; this laughter, accompanied by 
the whirr of Nanon’s spinning-wheel, sincere only upon 
the lips of Eugenie or her mother ; this triviality min- 
gled with important interests ; this young girl, who, 
like certain birds made victims of the price put upon 
them, was now lured and trapped by proofs of friend- 
ship of which she was the dupe, — all these things 
contributed to make the scene a melancholy comedy. 
Is it not, moreover, a drama of all times and all places, 
though here brought down to its simplest expression ? 
The figure of Grandet, playing his own game with 
the false friendship of the two families and getting 
enormous profits from it, dominates the scene and 
throws light upon it. The modern god, — the only 
god in whom faith is preserved, — money, is here, in 


46 


Eugenie G-randet, 


all its power, manifested in a single countenance. The 
tender sentiments of life hold here but a secondary 
place ; only the three pure, simple hearts of Nanon, of 
Eugenie, and of her mother are inspired by them. And 
how much of ignorance there was in the simplicity 
of these poor women ! Eugenie and her mother knew 
nothing of Grandet’s wealth ; they could only estimate 
the things of life by the glimmer of their pale ideas, 
and they neither valued nor despised money, because 
they were accustomed to do without it. Their feelings, 
bruised, though they did not know it, but ever-living, 
were the secret spring of their existence, and made them 
curious exceptions in the midst of these other people 
whose lives were purely material. Frightful condition 
of the human race ! there is no one of its joys that 
does not come from some species of ignorance. 

At the moment when Madame Grandet had won a 
loto of sixteen sous, — the largest ever pooled in that 
house, — and while la Grande Nanon was laughing with 
delight as she watched madame pocketing her riches, 
the knocker resounded on the house-door with such a 
noise that the women all jumped in their chairs. 

“ There is no man in Saumur who would knock like 
that,” said the notary. 

“How can they bang in that way!” exclaimed 
Nanon; “do they want to break in the door?” 

“ Who the devfl is it?” cried Grandet. 



Eugenie G-mndeU 


4T 


III. 

Nanon took one of the candles and went to open the 
door, followed by her master. 

“Grandet! Grandet !” cried his wife, moved by a 
sudden impulse of fear, and running to the door of 
the room. 

All the players looked at each other. 

“ Suppose we all go? ” said Monsieur des Grassins ; 
“ that knock strikes me as evil-intentioned.” 

Hardly was Monsieur des Grassins allowed to see 
the figure of a young man, accompanied by a porter 
from the coach-office carrying two large trunks and 
dragging a carpet-bag after him, than Monsieur Grandet 
turned roughly on his wife and said, — 

“ Madame Grandet, go back to your loto ; leave 
me to speak with monsieur.”^ 

Then he pulled the door quickly to, and the excited 
players returned to their seats, but did not continue 
the game. 

“Is it any one belonging to Saumur, Monsieur des 
Grassins ? ” asked his wife. 

“ No, it is a traveller.’’ 


48 


Euginie G-randet 


“ He must have come from Paris.” 

“ Just so,” said the notary, pulling out his old watch, 
which was two inches thick and looked like a Dutch 
man-of-war; “it’s nine o’clock: the diligence of the 
Grand Bureau is never late.” 

“Is the gentleman joung?” inquired the Abbe 
Cruchot. 

“ Yes,” answered Monsieur des Grassins, “ and he 
has brought luggage which must weigh nearly three 
tons.” 

“ Nanon does not come back,” said Eugenie. 

“ It must be one of your relations,” remarked the 
president. 

“ Let us go on with our game,” said Madame Gran- 
det gently. “ I know from Monsieur Grandet’s tone 
of voice that he is annoyed; perhaps he would not 
like to find us talking of his aflairs.” 

“Mademoiselle,” said Adolphe to his neighbor, “it 
is no doubt your cousin Grandet, — a very good- 
looking young man ; I met him at the ball of Mon- 
sieur de Nucingen.” Adolphe did not go on, for his 
mother trod on his toes ; and then, asking him aloud 
for two sous to put on her stake, she whispered : “ Will 
you hold 3’our tongue, you great goose ! ” 

At this moment Grandet returned, without la Grande 
Nanon, whose steps, together with those of the porter, 
echoed up the staircase ; and he was followed b}" the 


Eugenie Grandet, 


49 


traveller who had excited such curiosity and so filled 
the lively imaginations of those present that his arri- 
val at this dwelling, and his sudden fall into the midst 
of this assemblj^, can only be likened to that of a snail 
into a beehive, or the introduction of a peacock into 
some village poultry-yard. 

“ Sit down near the fire,” said Grandet. 

Before seating himself, the j’oung stranger saluted 
the assembled company very gracefully. The men rose 
to answer by a courteous inclination, and the women 
made a ceremonious bow. 

“ You are cold, no doubt, monsieur,” said Madame 
Grandet ; “ you have, perhaps, travelled from — ” 

“Just like all women!” said the old wine-grower, 
looking up from a letter he was reading. “Do let 
monsieur rest himself ! ” 

“ But, father, perhaps monsieur would like to take 
something,” said Eugenie. 

“ He has got a tongue,” said the old man sternly. 

The stranger was the only person surprised by this 
scene ; all the others were well-used to the despotic 
ways of the master. However, after the two ques- 
tions and the two replies had been exchanged, the new- 
comer rose, turned his back towards the fire, lifted one 
foot so as to warm the sole of its boot, and said to 
Eugenie, — 

“Thank you, my cousin, but I dined at Tours. 

4 


50 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


And,” he added, looking at Grandet, “ I need nothing; 
I am not even tired.” 

‘ ‘ Monsieur has come from the capital ? ” asked 
Madame des Grassins. 

Monsieur Charles, — such was the name of the son 
of Monsieur Grandet of Paris, — hearing himself ad- 
dressed, took a little eye-glass, suspended by a chain 
from his neck, applied it to his right eye to examine 
what was on the table, and also the persons sitting 
round it. He ogled Madame des Grassins with much 
impertinence, and said to her, after he had observed all 
he wished, — 

“ Yes, madame. You are playing at loto, aunt,” he 
added. “Do not let me interrupt you, I beg; go on 
with your game : it is too amusing to leave.” 

“ I was certain it was the cousin,” thought Madame 
des Grassins, casting repeated glances at him. 

“Forty-seven!” cried the old abbe. “Mark it 
down, Madame des Grassins. Is n’t that your num- 
ber?” 

Monsieur des Grassins put a counter on his wife’s 
card, who sat watching first the cousin from Paris and 
then Eugenie, without thinking of her loto, a prey to 
mournful presentiments. From time to time the young 
heiress glanced furtively at her cousin, and the bank- 
er’s wife easily detected a crescendo of surprise and 
curiosity in her mind. 


EugSnie Grandet, 


51 


Monsieur Charles Grandet, a handsome young man 
of twenty-two, presented at this moment a singular 
contrast to the worthy provincials, who, considerably 
disgusted by his aristocratic manners, were all studying 
him with sarcastic intent. This needs an explanation. 
At twenty-two, young people are still so near childhood 
that they often conduct themselves childishly. In all 
probability, out of every hundred of them fully ninety- 
nine would have behaved precisely as Monsieur Charles 
Grandet was now behaving. 

Some da3^s earlier than this his father had told him to 
go and spend several months with his uncle at Saumur. 
Perhaps Monsieur Grandet was thinking of Eugenie. 
Charles, sent for the first time in his life ,into the prov- 
inces, took a fanc}^ to make his appearance with the 
superiority of a man of fashion, to reduce the whole 
arrondissement to despair by his luxur}^, and to make 
his visit an epoch, importing into those country" regions 
all the refinements of Parisian life. In short, to ex- 
plain it in one word, he meant to i^ass more time at 
Saumur in brushing his nails than he ever thought of 
doing in Paris, and to assume the extreme nicety and 
elegance of dress which a 3’oung man of fashion often 
laj's aside for a certain negligence which in itself is not 
devoid of grace. Charles therefore brought with him 
a complete hunting-costume, the finest gun, the best 
hunting-knife in the prettiest sheath to be found in all 


52 


EugSnie QrandU. 


Paris. He brought his whole collection of waistcoats. 
They were of all kinds, — gray, black, white, scarabseus- 
colored : some were shot with gold, some spangled, 
some chined ; some were double-breasted and crossed 
like a shawl, others were straight in the collar ; some 
had turned-over collars, some buttoned up to the top 
with gilt buttons. He brought every variety of collar 
and cravat in fashion at that epoch. He brought two 
of Buisson’s coats and all his finest linen. He brought 
his pretty gold toilet-set, — a present from his mother. 
He brought all his dandy knick-knacks, not forget- 
ting a ravishing little desk presented to him by the 
most amiable of women, — amiable for him, at least, — 
si, fine lady whom he called Annette and who at this 
moment was travelling, matrimonially and weariedly, 
in Scotland, a victim to certain suspicions which re- 
quired a passing sacrifice of happiness ; in the desk 
was much pretty note-paper on which to write to her 
once a fortnight. 

In short, it was as complete a cargo of Parisian fri- 
volities as it was possible for him to get together, — a col- 
lection of all the implements of husbandry with which 
the youth of leisure tills his life, from the little whip 
which helps to begin a duel, to the handsomely chased 
pistols which end it. His father having told him to 
travel alone and modestly, he had taken the coupe of 
the diligence all to himself, rather pleased not to dam- 


EugSnie Grrandet 


53 


age a delightful travelling-carriage ordered for a jour- 
ney on which he was to meet his Annette, the great 
lady who, etc., — whom he intended to rejoin at Baden 
in the following June. Charles expected to meet scores 
of people at his uncle’s house, to hunt in his uncle’s 
forests, — to live, in short, the usual chateau life ; he did 
not know that his uncle was in Saumur, and had only 
inquired about him incidentally, when asking the way to 
Froidfond. Hearing that he was in town, he supposed 
that he should find him in a suitable mansion. 

In order that he might make a becoming first appear- 
ance before his uncle either at Saumur or at Froidfond, 
he had put on his most elegant travelling attire, simple 
yet exquisite, — “ adorable,” to use the word which in 
those days summed up the special perfections of a man 
or a thing. At Tours a hairdresser had re-curled his 
beautiful chestnut locks ; there he changed his linen and 
put on a black satin cravat, which, combined with a round 
shirt-collar, framed his fair and smiling countenance 
agreeably. A travelling great-coat, only half buttoned 
up, nipped in his waist and disclosed a cashmere waist- 
coat crossed in front, beneath which was another waist- 
coat of white material. His watch, negligently slipped 
into a pocket, was fastened by a short gold chain to a 
buttonhole. His gray trousers, buttoned up at the 
sides, were set off at the seams with patterns of black 
silk embroideiy. He gracefully twirled a cane, whose 


64 


Euginie Grandet, 


chased gold knob did not mar the freshness of his gray 
gloves. And to complete all, his cap was in excellent 
taste. None but a Parisian, and a Parisian of the up- 
per spheres, could thus array himself without appearing 
ridiculous ; none other could give the harmony of self- 
conceit to all these fopperies, which were carried off, 
however, with a dashing air, — the air of a young man 
who has fine pistols, a sure aim, and Annette. 

Now if you wish to understand the mutual amaze- 
ment of the provincial party and the young Parisian ; if 
you would clearly see the brilliance which the traveller’s 
elegance cast among the gray shadows of the room and 
upon the faces of this family group, — endeavor to picture 
to 3"Our minds the Cruchots. All three took snuff, and 
had long ceased to repress the habit of snivelling or to 
remove the brown blotches which strewed the frills of 
their dingy shirts and the yellowing creases of their 
crumpled collars. Their flabb}^ cravats were twisted 
into ropes as soon as they wound them about their 
throats. The enormous quantity of linen which allowed 
these people to have their clothing washed only once 
in six months, and to keep it during that time in the 
depths of their closets, also enabled time to lay its grimy 
and decaying stains upon it. There was perfect unison 
of ill-grace and senility about them ; their faces, as faded 
as their threadbare coats, as creased as their trousers, 
were worn-out, shrivelled-up, and puckered. As for the 


EugSnie (xrandet. 


55 


others, the general negligence of their dress, which was 
incomplete and wanting in freshness, — like the toilet of 
all country places, where insensibly people cease to dress 
for others and come to think seriously of the price of a 
pair of gloves, — was in keeping with the negligence of 
the Cruchots. A horror of fashion was the only point 
on which the Grassinists and the Cruchotines agreed. 

When the Parisian took up his eye-glass to examine 
the strange accessories of this dwelling, — the joists of 
the ceiling, the color of the woodwork, and the specks 
which the flies had left there in sufficient number to 
punctuate the “ Moniteur” and the “ Enc3^clop8edia of 
Sciences,” — the loto-players lifted their noses and 
looked at him with as much curiosity as they might 
have felt about a giraffe. Monsieur des Grassins and 
his son, to whom the appearance of a man of fashion 
was not wholly unknown, were nevertheless as much 
astonished as their neighbors, whether it was that they 
fell under the indefinable influence of the general feeling, 
or that they really shared it as with satirical glances 
they seemed to say to their compatriots, — 

“ That is what 3^ou see in Paris ! ” 

They were able to examine Charles at their leisure 
without fearing to displease the master of the house. 
Grandet was absorbed in the long letter which he held 
in his hand ; and to read it he had taken the only candle 
upon the card-table, paying no heed to his guests or 


56 


EugSnie Grandet, 


their pleasure. Eugenie, to whom such a type of per- 
fection, whether of dress or of person, was absolutely 
unknown, thought she beheld in her cousin a being 
descended from seraphic spheres. She inhaled with 
delight the fragrance wafted from the graceful curls of 
that brilliant head. She would have liked to touch the 
soft kid of the delicate gloves. She envied Charles his 
small hands, his complexion, the freshness and refine- 
ment of his features. In short, — if it is possible to 
sum up the effect this elegant being produced upon an 
ignorant young girl perpetually employed in darning 
stockings or in mending her father’s clothes, and whose 
life fiowed on beneath these unclean rafters, seeing none 
but occasional passers along the silent street, — this 
vision of her cousin roused in her soul an emotion of 
delicate desire like that inspired in a young man by the 
fanciful pictures of women drawn by Westall for the 
English “ Keepsakes,” and engraved by the Findena 
with so clever a tool that we fear, as we breathe upon 
the paper, that the celestial apparitions may be wafted 
away. Charles drew from his pocket a handkerchief 
embroidered by the great lady now travelling in Scot- 
land. As Eugenie saw this pretty piece of work, done 
in the vacant hours which were lost to love, she looked 
at her cousin to see if it were possible that he meant to 
make use of it. The manners of the j’^oung man, his 
gestures, the way in which he took up his eye-glass, his 


EugSnie G-randet, 


57 


affected superciliousness, his contemptuous glance at 
the coffer which had just given so much pleasure to 
the rich heiress, and which he evidently regarded as 
without value, or even as ridiculous, — all these things, 
which shocked the Cruchots and the des Grassins, 
pleased Eugenie so deeplj^ that before she slept she 
dreamed long dreams of her phoenix cousin. 

The loto-numbers were drawn very slowly, and pres- 
ently the game came suddenly to an end. La Grande 
Nanon entered and said aloud : Madame, I want the 
sheets for monsieur’s bed.” 

Madame Grandet followed her out. Madame des 
Grassins said in a low voice: “Let us keep our sous 
and stop playing.” Each took his or her two sous 
from the chipped saucer in which they had been put ; 
then the party moved in a body toward the fire. 

“Have you finished your game?” said Grandet, 
without looking up from his letter. 

“ Yes, yes! ” replied Madame des Grassins, taking 
a seat near Charles. 

Eugenie, prompted by a thought often born in the 
heart of a young girl when sentiment enters it for the 
first time, left the room to go and help her mother 
and Nanon. Had an able confessor then questioned 
her she would, no doubt, have avowed to him that she 
thought neither of her mother nor of Nanon, but was 
pricked by a poignant desire to look after her cousin’s 


58 


EugSnie Grandet, 


room and concern herself with her cousin; to supply 
what might be needed, to remedy any forgetfulness, to 
see that all was done to make it, as far as possible, 
suitable and elegant ; and, in fact, she arrived in time 
to prove to her mother and Nanon that everything still 
remained to be done. She put into Nanon’s head the 
notion of passing a warming-pan between the sheets. 
She herself covered the old table with a cloth and re- 
quested Nanon to change it every morning; she con- 
vinced her mother that it was necessaiy to light a good 
fire, and persuaded Nanon to bring up a great pile of 
wood into the corridor without saying anything to her 
father. She ran to get, from one of the corner-shelves 
of the hall, a tray of old lacquer which was part of 
the inheritance of the late Monsieur de la Bertelliere, 
catching up at the same time a six-sided crystal goblet, 
a little tarnished gilt spoon, an antique fiask engraved 
with cupids, all of which she put triumphantly, on the 
corner of her cousin’s chimney-piece. More ideas surged 
through her head in one quarter of an hour than she 
had ever had since she came into the world. 

“ Mamma,” she said, my cousin will never bear the 
smell of a tallow candle ; suppose we buy a wax one T ” 
And she darted, swift as a bird, to get the five-franc 
piece which she had just received for her monthly 
expenses. “ Here, Nanon,” she cried, “ quick ! ” 

“ What will your father say? ” This terrible remon- 


Euginie GrandeU 


59 


strance was uttered by Madame Grandet as she beheld 
her daughter armed with an old Sevres sugar-basin 
which Grandet had brought home from the chateau of 
Froidfrond. “ And where will you get the sugar? Are 
you crazy ? ” 

“ Mamma, Nanon can buy some sugar as well as the 
candle.” 

“ But your father? ” 

“ Surely his nephew ought not to go without a glass 
of eau sucree? Besides, he will not notice it.” 

“ Your father sees everything,” said Madame Gran- 
det, shaking her head. 

Nanon hesitated ; she knew her master. 

“ Come, Nanon, go, — because it is my birthday.” 

Nanon gave a loud laugh as she heard the first lit- 
tle jest her young mistress had ever made, and then 
obeyed her. 

While Eugenie and her mother were trying to em- 
bellish the bedroom assigned by Monsieur Grandet for 
his nephew, Charles himself was the object of Madame 
des Grassins’ attentions ; to all appearance she was 
setting her cap at him. 

“You are very courageous, monsieur,” she said to 
the young dandy, “ to leave the pleasures of the capital 
at this season and take up your abode in Saumur. 
But if we do not frighten you away, j^ou will find there 
are some amusements even here.” 


60 


EugSnie Grandet 


She threw him the ogling glance of the provinces, 
where women put so much prudence and reserve into 
their eyes that they impart to them the prudish concu- 
piscence peculiar to certain ecclesiastics to whom all 
pleasure is either a theft or an error. Charles was so 
completely out of his element in this abode, and so far 
from the vast chateau and the sumptuous life with 
which his fancy had endowed his uncle, that as he 
looked at Madame des Grassins he perceived a dim 
likeness to Parisian faces. He gracefullj^ responded 
to the species of invitation addressed to him, and be- 
gan very naturally a conversation, in which Madame 
des Grassins gradually lowered her voice so as to bring 
it into harmony with the nature of the confidences she 
was making. With her, as with Charles, there was the 
need of conference ; so after a few moments spent in 
coquettish phrases and a little serious jesting, the clever 
provincial said, thinking herself unheard by the others, 
who were discussing the sale of wines which at that 
season filled the heads of everj" one in Saumur, — 

“ Monsieur, if 3’ou will do us the honor to come and 
see us, you will give as much pleasure to my husband 
as to myself. Our salon is the only one in Saumur 
where 3’ou will find the higher business circles mingling 
with the nobility. We belong to both societies, who 
meet at our house simply because they find it amusing. 
My husband — I say it with pride — is as much valued 


Euginie Grandet, 


61 


by the one class as by the other. We will try to relieve 
the monotony of your visit here. If you stay all the 
time with Monsieur Grandet, good heavens ! what will 
become of you? Your uncle is a sordid miser who 
thinks of nothing but his vines ; your aunt is a pious 
soul who can’t put two ideas together ; and 3^our cousin 
is a little fool, without education, perfectly common, no 
fortune, who will spend her life in darning towels.” 

“ She is really very nice, this woman,” thought 
Charles Grandet as he duly responded to Madame des 
Grassins* coquetries. 

“ It seems to me, wife, that you are taking posses- 
sion of monsieur,” said the stout banker, laughing. 

On this remark the notary and the president said a 
few words that were more or less significant ; but the 
abbe, looking at them slyly, brought their thoughts to 
a focus by taking a pinch of snuff and sajdng as he 
handed round his snuff-box : “ Who can do the honors 
of Saumur for monsieur so well as madame ? ” 

“ Ah ! what do you mean by that, monsieur I’abbe? ” 
demanded Monsieur des Grassins. 

“ I mean it in the best possible sense for you, for 
madame, for the town of Saumur, and for monsieur,” 
said the wily old man, turning to Charles. 

The Abbe Cruchot had guessed the conversation be- 
tween Charles and Madame des Grassins without seem- 
ing to pay attention to it. 


62 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“ Monsieur,” said Adolphe to Charles with an air 
which he tried to make free and easy, “ I don’t know 
whether you remember me, but I had the honor of 
dancing as your vis-a-vis at a ball given hy the Baron 
de Nucingen, and — ” 

“Perfectly; I remember perfectly, monsieur,” am 
swered Charles, pleased to find himself the object of 
general attention. 

“Monsieur is your son?” he said to Madame des 
Grassins. 

The abb4 looked at her maliciously. 

“ Yes, monsieur,” she answered. 

“ Then you were very young when you were in 
Paris?” said Charles, addressing Adolphe. 

“ You must know, monsieur,” said the abbe, “ that 
we send them to Babjdon as soon as they are weaned.” 

Madame des Grassins examined the abbe with a 
glance of extreme penetration. 

“It is only in the provinces,” he continued, “that 
you will find women of thirty and more years as fresh 
as madame, here, with a son about to take his degree. 
I almost fancy myself back in the days when the young 
men stood on chairs in the ball-rooms to see you dance, 
madame,” added the abbe, turning to his female adver- 
sary. “ To me, your triumphs are but of j^esterda}^ — ” 

“The old rogue!” thought Madame des Grassins; 
“ can he have guessed my intentions?” 


Euginie Grandet, 


63 


“ It seems that I shall have a good deal of success 
in Saumur,” thought Charles as he unbuttoned his 
great-coat, put his hand into his waistcoat, and cast 
a glance into the far distance, to imitate the attitude 
which Chantre}^ has given to Lord B3Ton, 

The inattention of Pere Grandet, or, to speak more 
trul}", the preoccupation of mind into which the reading 
of the letter had plunged him, did not escape the vigi- 
lance of the notary and the president, who tried to guess 
the contents of the letter by the almost imperceptible 
motions of the miser’s face, which was then under the 
full light of the candle. He maintained the habitual 
calm of his features with evident difficulty ; we may, in 
fact, picture to ourselves the countenance such a man 
endeavored to preserve as he read the fatal letter which 
here follows : — 

My Brother, — It is almost twenty-three years since we 
have seen each other. My marriage was the occasion of our 
last interview, after which we parted, and both of us were 
happy. Assuredly I could not then foresee that you would 
one day be the prop of the family whose prosperity you then 
predicted. 

When you hold this letter within your hands I shall be no 
longer living. In the position I now hold I cannot survive 
the disgrace of bankruptcy. I have waited on the edge of 
the gulf until the last moment, hoping to save myself. The 
end has come, I must sink into it. The doubie bankruptcies 
of my broker and of Roguin, my notary, have carried off my 


64 


EugSnie Grandet. 


last resources and left me nothing. I have the bitterness of 
owing nearly four millions, with assets not more than twenty- 
five per cent in value to pay them. The wines in my ware- 
houses suffer from the fall in prices caused by the abundance 
and quality of your vintage. In three days Paris will cry 
out: “Monsieur Grandet was a knave!” and I, an honest 
man, shall be lying in my winding-sheet of infamy. I de- 
prive my son of a good name, which I have stained, and the 
fortune of his mother, which I have lost. He knows nothing 
of all this, — my unfortunate child whom I idolize! We 
parted tenderly. He was ignorant, happily, that the last 
beatings of my heart were spent in that farewell. Will he 
not some day curse me? My brother, my brother! the curses 
of our children are horrible ; they can appeal against ours, but 
theirs are irrevocable. Grandet, you are my elder brother, 
you owe me your protection ; act for me so that Charles may 
cast no bitter words upon my grave ! My brother, if I were 
writing with my blood, with my tears, no greater anguish 
could I put into this letter, — nor as great, for then I should 
weep, I should bleed, I should die, I should suffer no more; 
but now I suffer and look at death with dry eyes. 

“ From henceforth you are my son’s father; he has no rela- 
tions, as you well know, on his mother’s side. Why did I 
not consider social prejudices? Why did I yield to love? 
Why did I marry the natural daughter of a great lord? 
Charles has no family. Oh, my unhappy son! my son! 
Listen, Grandet! I implore nothing for myself, — besides, 
your property may not be large enough to carry a mortgage 
of three millions, — but for my son! Brother, my suppliant 
hands are clasped as I think of you; behold them! Grandet, 
I confide my son to you in dying, and I look at the means of 
death with less pain as I think that you will be to him a 


Eiigenie Grandet. 


65 


father. He loved me well, my Charles; I was good to him, 
I never thwarted him; he will not curse me. Ah, you will 
see • he is gentle, he is like his mother, he will cause you no 
grief. Poor boy ! accustomed to all the enjoyments of lux- 
ury, he knows nothing of the privations to which you and I 
were condemned by the poverty of our youth. And I leave 
him ruined! alone! Yes, all my friends will avoid him, 
and it is I who have brought this humiliation upon him! 
Would that I had the force to send him with one thrust into 
the heavens to his mother’s side ! Madness ! I come back to 
my disaster — to his. I send him to you that you may tell 
him ill some fitting way of my death, of his future fate. 
Be a father to him, but a good father. Do not tear him all 
at once from his idle life, it would kill him. I beg him on 
my knees to renounce all rights that, as his mother’s heir, he 
may have on my estate. But the prayer is superfluous ; he is 
honorable, and he will feel that he must not appear among 
my creditors. Bring him to see this at the right time; re- 
veal to him the hard conditions of the life I have made for 
him ; and if he still has tender thoughts of me, tell him in 
my name that all is not lost for him. Yes, work, labor, 
which saved us both, may give him back the fortune of 
which I have deprived him ; and if he listens to his father’s 
voice as it reaches him from beyond the grave, he will go to 
the Indies. My brother, Charles is an upright and courageous 
young man: give him the wherewithal to make his venture; 
he will die sooner than not repay you the funds which you 
may lend him. Grandet! if you will not do this, you will 
lay up for yourself remorse. Ah, should my child find 
neither tenderness nor succor in you, I would call down the 
vengeance of God upon your cruelty ! 

If I had been able to save something from the wreck, I 

6 


66 


Eugenie Grandet. 


might have had the right to leave him at least a portion ot 
his mother’s property; but my last monthly payments have 
absorbed everything. I did not wish to die uncertain of my 
child’s fate; I hoped to feel a sacred promise in a clasp of 
your hand which might have warmed my heart: but time 
fails me. While Charles is journeying to you I shall be 
preparing my assignment. I shall endeavor to show by the 
order and good faith of my accounts that my disaster comes 
neither from a faulty life nor from dishonesty. It is for 
my son’s sake that I strive to do this. 

Farewell, my brother! May the blessing of God be 
yours for the generous guardianship I lay upon you, and 
which, I doubt not, you will accept. A voice will hence- 
forth and forever pray for you in that world where we must 
all go, and where I am now as you read these lines. 

, Victor- Ange-Gillaume Grandet. 

“So you are talking? ’' said Pere Grandet as he care- 
fully folded the letter in its original creases and put it 
into his waistcoat-pocket. He looked at his nephew 
with a humble, timid air, beneath which he hid his feel- 
ings and his calculations. “Have j’ou warmed your- 
self? ” he said to him. 

“ Thoroughl}-, my dear uncle.” 

“Well, where are the women?” said his uncle, al- 
ready forgetting that his nephew was to sleep at the 
house. At this moment Eugenie and Madame Grandet 
returned. 

“Is the room all ready?” said Grandet, recovering 
his composure. 


Eugenie Qrandet 


67 


“Yes, father.” 

“Well then, my nephew, if you are tired, Nanon shall 
show you your room. It is n’t a dandy’s room ; but you 
will excuse a poor vine-grower who never has a penny 
to spare. Taxes swallow up everything.” 

“We do not wish to intrude, Grandet,” said the 
banker; “you ma}^ want to talk with your nephew, 
and therefore we will bid you good-night.” 

At these words the assembly rose, and each made a 
parting bow in keeping with his or her own character. 
The old notary went to the door to fetch his lantern 
and came back to light it, offering to accompany the 
des Grassins on their wa3^ Madame des Grassins had 
not foreseen the incident which brought the evening 
prematurely to an end, her servant therefore had not 
arrived. 

“Will you do me the honor to take my arm, ma- 
dame?” said the abbe. 

“ Thank you, monsieur I’abbe, but I have my son,” 
she answered dryly. 

“Ladies cannot compromise themselves with me,” 
said the abbe. 

“Take Monsieur Cruchot’s arm,” said her hus- 
band. 

The abbe walked off with the pretty lad}^ so quickly 
that they were soon some distance in advance of the 


caravan. 


68 


Euginie Grandet. 


' “ That is a good-looking young man, madame,’’ he 
said, pressing her arm. “ Good-by to the grapes, the 
vintage is done. It is all over with us. We may as 
well say adieu to Mademoiselle Grandet. Eugenie will 
belong to the dandy. Unless this cousin is enamoured 
of some Parisian woman, your son Adolphe will find 
another rival in — ” 

“Not at all, monsieur Tabbe. This 3^oung man 
cannot fail to see that Eugenie is a little fool, — a girl 
without the least freshness. Did you notice her to- 
night? She was as yellow as a quince.” 

“ Perhaps you made the cousin notice it ? ” 

“ I did not take the trouble — ” 

“Place yourself always beside Eugenie, madame, 
and you need never take the trouble to say anything 
to the young man against his cousin ; he will make his 
own comparisons, which — ” 

“ Well, he has promised to dine with me the day 
after to-morrow.” 

“ Ah ! if you only would^ madame — ” said the abbe. 
“ What is it that you wish me to do, monsieur Tabbe? 
Do you mean to offer me bad advice? I have not 
reached the age of thirty-nine, without a stain upon my 
reputation, thank God ! to compromise myself now, 
even for the empire of the Great Mogul. You and 
I are of an age when we both know the meaning 
of words. For an ecclesiastic, you certainlj’^ have 


EugSnie Grandet, 69 

ideas that are very incongruous. Fie! it is worthy 
of Faublas 1 

“You have read Faublas?” 

“ No, monsieur I’abbe ; I meant to say the Liaisons 
dangereuses^ 

“Ah! that book is infinitely more moral,” said the 
abbe, laughing. “ But you make me out as wicked as a 
young man of the present day ; I only meant — ” 

“Do you dare to tell me you were not thinking of 
putting wicked things into my head? Is n’t it per- 
fectly clear? If this young man — who I admit is very 
good-looking — were to make love to me, he would not 
think of his cousin. In Paris, I know, good mothers 
do devote themselves in this way to the happiness and 
welfare of their children ; but we live in the provinces, 
monsieur I’abbe.” 

“Yes, madame.” 

“ And,” she continued, “ I do not want, and Adolphe 
himself would not want, a hundred millions bought at 
such a price.” 

“ Madame, I said nothing about a hundred millions ; 
that temptation might be too great for either of us to 
withstand. Only, I do think that an honest woman 
may permit herself, in all honor, certain harmless little 
coquetries, which are, in fact, part of her social duty, 
and which — ” 

‘ ‘ Do you think so ? ” 


70 


EugSnie Grandet. 


“Are we not bound, madame, to make ourselves 
agreeable to each other? — Permit me to blow my 
nose. — I assure you, madame,” he resumed, “that 
the young gentleman ogled you through his glass in 
a more flattering manner than he put on when he 
looked at me ; but I forgive him for doing homage to 
beauty in preference to old age — ” 

“ It is quite apparent,” said the president in his loud 
voice, “that Monsieur Grandet of Paris has sent his 
son to Saumur with extremely matrimonial intentions.” 

“ But in that case the cousin would n’t have fallen 
among us like a cannon-ball,” answered the notary. 

“That doesn’t prove an3dhing,” said Monsieur des 
Grassins ; “the old miser is alwaj^s making mysteries.” 

“ Des Grassins, my friend, I have invited the young 
man to dinner. You must go and ask Monsieur and 
Madame de Larsonniere and the du Hautoys, with the 
beautiful demoiselle du Hautoy, of course. I hope she 
will be properly dressed ; that jealous mother of hers 
does make such a fright of her ! Gentlemen, I trust 
that you will all do us the honor to come,” she added, 
stopping the procession to address the two Cruchots. 
“Here 3"Ou are at home, madame,” said the notar3\ 
After bowing to the three des Grassins, the three 
Cruchots returned home, applying their provincial ge- 
nius for anal3’sis to stud3dng, under all its aspects, the 
great event of the evening, which undoubtedly changed 


EugSnie G-randet 


71 


the respective positions of Grassinists and Cruchotines. 
The admirable common-sense which guided all the 
actions of these great machinators made each side 
feel the necessity of a momentary alliance against a 
common enemy. Must they not mutually hinder Euge- 
nie from loving her cousin, and the cousin from thinking 
of Eugenie? Could the Parisian resist the influence of 
treacherous insinuations, soft-spoken calumnies, slan- 
ders full of faint praise and artless denials, which 
should be made to circle incessantly about him and 
deceive him? 


72 


Eugenie Qrandet. 



IV. 


When the four relations were left alone, Monsieur 
Grandet said to his nephew, — 

“We must go to bed. It is too late to talk about 
the matters which have brought you here ; to-morrow 
we will take a suitable moment. We breakfast at eight 
o’clock; at midday we eat a little fruit or a bit of 
bread, and drink a glass of white wine ; and we dine, 
like the Parisians, at five o’clock. That’s the order 
of the day. If you like to go and see the town and 
the environs you are free to do so. You will ex- 
cuse me if my occupations do not permit me to accom- 
pany you. You may perhaps hear people say that I 
am rich, — Monsieur Grandet this, Monsieur Grandet 
that. I let them talk ; their gossip does not hurt 
my credit. But I have not a penny ; I work in my 
old age like an apprentice whose worldly goods are a 
bad plane and two good arms. Perhaps you’ll soon 
know yourself what a franc costs when 3"Ou have got 
to sweat for it. Nanon, where are the candles? ” 

“ I trust, my nephew, that you will find all j^ou 
want,” said Madame Grandet; “but if you should 
need anything else, you can call Nanon.” 


EugSnie Grandet, 


73 


“ My dear aunt, I shall need nothing ; I have, I be- 
lieve, brought everything with me. Permit me to bid 
you good-night, and my young cousin also.’’ 

Charles took a lighted wax candle from Nanon’s 
hand, — an Anjou candle, very yellow in color, and so 
shopworn that it looked like tallow and deceived Mon- 
sieur Grandet, who, incapable of suspecting its presence 
under his roof, did not perceive this magnificence. 

“ I will show you the way,” he said. 

Instead of leaving the hall by the door which opened 
under the archway, Grandet ceremoniously went 
through the passage which divided the hall from the 
kitchen. A swing-door, furnished with a large oval 
pane of glass, shut this passage from the staircase, so 
as to fend off the cold air which rushed through it. 
But the north wind whistled none the less keenly in 
winter, and, in spite of the sand-bags at the bottom of 
the doors of the living-room, the temperature within 
could scarcely be kept at a proper height. Nanon went 
to bolt the outer door ; then she closed the hall and 
let loose a wolf-dog, whose bark was so strangled that 
he seemed to have laryngitis. This animal, noted for 
his ferocity, recognized no one but Nanon ; the two 
untutored children of the fields understood each other. 

When Charles saw the yellow, smoke-stained walls 
of the well of the staircase, where each worm-eaten 
step shook under the heavy foot-fall of his uncle. 


74 


Eugenie Grandet, 


his expectations began to sober more and more. He 
fancied himself in a hen-roost. His aunt and cousin, 
to whom he turned an inquiring look, were so used to 
the staircase that they did not guess the cause of his 
amazement, and took the glance for an expression of 
friendliness, which they answered by a smile that made 
him desperate. 

“ Why the devil did mj^ father send me to such a 
place? ” he said to himself. 

When they reached the first landing he saw three 
doors painted in Etruscan red and without casings, — 
doors sunk in the dusty walls and provided with iron 
bars, which in fact were bolts, each ending with the 
pattern of a flame, as did both ends of the long sheath 
of the lock. The first door at the top of the staircase, 
which opened into a room directly above the kitchen, 
was evidently walled up. In fact, the only entrance to 
that room was through Grandef s bedchamber ; the room 
itself was his office. The single window which lighted 
it, on the side of the court, was protected by a lattice 
of strong iron bars. No one, not even Madame Gran- 
det, had permission to enter it. The old man chose 
to be alone, like an alchemist in his laboratory. There, 
no doubt, some hiding-place had been ingeniously con- 
structed ; there the title-deeds of propert^^ were stored ; 
there hung the scales with which to weigh the louis ; 
there were devised, by night and secretlj^, the esti- 


Euginie Grandet 


75 


mates, the profits, the receipts, so that business men, 
finding Grand et prepared at all points, imagined that 
he got his cue from fairies or demons ; there, no doubt, 
while Nan on’s loud snoring shook the rafters, while the 
wolf-dog watched and yawned in the courtyard, while 
Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet were quietly sleep- 
ing, came the old cooper to cuddle, to con over, to 
caress and clutch and clasp his gold. The walls were 
thick, the screens sure. He alone had the key of this 
laborator}^, where — so people declared — he studied the 
maps on which his fruit-trees were marked, and calcm 
lated his profits to a vine, and almost to a twig. 

The door of Eugenie’s chamber was opposite to the 
walled-up entrance to this room. At the other end of 
the landing were the appartements of the married pair, 
which occupied the whole front of the house. Madame 
Grandet had a room next to that of Eugenie, which 
was entered through a glass door. The master’s cham- 
ber was separated from that of his wife by a partition, 
and from the mysterious strong-room by a thick wall. 
Pere Grandet lodged his nephew on the second floor, 
in the high mansarde attic which was above his own 
bedroom, so that he might hear him if the 3"Oung man 
took it into his head to go and come. When Eugenie 
and her mother reached the middle of the landing they 
kissed each other for good-night ; then with a few words 
of adieu to Charles, cold upon the lips, but certainly 


76 


Eugenie Grandet, 


very warm in the heart of the young girl, they with- 
drew into their own chambers. 

Here you are in your room, my nephew,” said Pere 
Grandet as he opened the door. “ If you need to go 
out, call Nanon ; without her, beware ! the dog would 
eat you up without a word. Sleep well. Good-night. 
Ha ! why, they have made you a fire ! ” he cried. 

At this moment Nanon appeared with the warming- 
pan. 

‘ ‘ Here *8 something more ! ” said Monsieur Grandet. 
“Do you take m}^ nephew for a lying-in woman? 
Carry off your brazier, Nanon ! ” 

“But, monsieur, the sheets are damp, and this gen- 
tleman is as delicate as a woman.” 

“Well, go on, as you’ve taken it into your head,” 
said Grandet, pushing her by the shoulders; “but 
don’t set things on fire.” So saving, the miser went 
down-stairs, grumbling indistinct sentences. 

Charles stood aghast in the midst of his trunks. Af- 
ter casting his eyes on the attic-walls covered with 
that yellow paper sprinkled with bouquets so well 
known in dance-houses, on the fireplace of ribbed 
stone whose very look was chilling, on the chairs of 
5 'ellow wood with varnished cane seats that seemed to 
have more than the usual four angles, on the open 
night-table capacious enough to hold a small sergeant- 
at-arms, on the meagre bit of rag-carpet beside the 


EugSnie Grandet, 


77 


bed, on the tester whose cloth valance shook as if, de- 
voured by moths, it was about to fall, he turned gravely 
to la Grande Nanon and said, — 

“ Look here ! my dear woman, just tell me, — am I 
In the house of Monsieur Grandet, formerly mayor ot 
Saumur, and brother to Monsieur Grandet of Paris ? ” 

“Yes, monsieur; and a very good, a very kind, a 
very perfect gentleman. Shall I help you to unpack 
your trunks ? ” 

“ Faith] yes, if you will, my old trooper. Didn’t 
you serve in the marines of the Imperial Guard? ” 

“ Ho, ho, ho ! ” laughed Nanon. “ What ’s that, — 
the marines of the guard? Is it salt? Does it go in 
the water?” 

“ Here, get me my dressing-gown out of that valise ; 
there ’s the key.” 

Nanon was wonder-struck by the sight of a dressing- 
gown made of green silk, brocaded with gold flowers 
of an antique design. 

“ Are you going to put that on to go to bed with? ” 
she asked. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Holy Virgin ! what a beautiful altar-cloth it would 
make for the parish church ! My dear darling mon- 
sieur, give it to the church, and you ’ll save your soul ; 
if you don’t, you’ll lose it. Oh, how nice you look 
in it ! I must call mademoiselle to see you.” 


78 


EngSnie G-randet. 


“ Come, Nanon, if Nanon you are, hold your tongue ; 
let me go to bed. I ’ll arrange my things to-morrow. 
If my dressing-gown pleases you so much, you shall save 
your own soul. I ’m too good a Christian not to give 
it to you when I go away, and you can do what you 
like with it.” 

Nanon stood rooted to the ground, gazing at Charles 
and unable to put faith in his words. 

“ Good night, Nanon.” 

“ What in the world have I come here for?” thought 
Charles as he went to sleep. “My father is not a 
fool ; my journey must have some object. \Pshaw ! 
put off serious thought till the morrow, as some Greek 
idiot sai(L^ 

“ Blessed Virgin ! how. charming he is, my cousin ! ” 
Eugenie was saying, interrupting her prayers, which 
that night at least were never finished. 

Madame Grandet had no thoughts at aU as she went 
to bed. She heard the miser walking up and down his 
room through the door of communication which was 
in the middle of the partition. Like all timid women, 
she had studied the character of her lord. Just as the 
petrel foresees the storm, she knew by imperceptible 
signs when an inward tempest shook her husband ; and 
at such times, to use an expression of her own, she 
“feigned dead.” 

Grandet gazed at the door lined with sheet-iron 


Euginie Grandet, 79 

which he had lately put to his sanctum, and said to 
himself, — 

“ What a crazy idea of my brother to bequeath 
his son to me ! A fine legacy ! I have not fifty francs 
to give him. What are fifty francs to a dandy who 
looked at my barometer as if he meant to make fire- 
wood of it!” 

In thinking over the consequences of that legacy of 
anguish Grandet was perhaps more agitated than his 
brother had been at the moment of writing it. 

“ I shall have that golden robe,” thought Nanon, 
who went to sleep tricked out in her altar-cloth, dream- 
ing for the first time in her life of fiowers, embroidery, 
and damask, just as Eugenie was dreaming of love. 

£Tn the pure and monotonous life of young girls there 
comes a delicious hour when the sun sheds its rays 
into their soul, when the flowers express their thoughts, 
when the thrx)bbings of the heart send upward to the 
brain their fertilizing warmth and melt all thoughts into 
a vague desire, — day of innocent melancholy and of 
dulcet joy^ When babes begin to see, they smile ; 
when a young girl first perceives the sentiment of 
nature, she smiles as she smiled when an infant. If 
light is the first love of life, is not love a light to the 
heart? The moment to see within the veil of earthly 
things had come for Eugenie. 


80 Euginie G-randet, 

An early riser, like all provincial girls, she was 
up betimes and said her prayers, and then began the 
business of dressing, — a business which henceforth 
was to have a meaning. First she brushed and 
smoothed her chestnut hair and twisted its heavy 
massQ^ to the top of her head with the utmost care, 
preventing the loose tresses from straying, and giv- 
ing to her head a symmetry which heightened the 
timid candor of her face ; for the simplicity of these 
accessories accorded well with the innocent sincerity 
of its lines. As she washed her hands again and 
again in the cold water which hardened and reddened 
the skin, she looked at her handsome round arms and 
asked herself what her cousin did to make his hands 
so softly white, his nails so delicately curved. She put 
on new stockings and her prettiest shoes. She laced 
her corset straight, without skipping a single eyelet. 
And then, wishing for the first time in her life to 
appear to advantage, she felt the joy of having a new 
gown, well made, which rendered her attractive. 

As she finished her toilet the clock of the parish 
church struck the hour; to her astonishment, it was 
onl}^ seven. The desire of having plenty of time for 
dressing carefully had led her to get up too early. 
Ignorant of the art of retouching every curl and study- 
ing ever}^ eflect, Eugenie simply crossed her arms, sat 
down b}^ the window, and looked at the court-yard, the 


EugSnie Grandet, 


81 


narrow garden, and the high terraced walls that over- 
topped it : a dismal, hedged-in prospect, yet not wholly 
devoid of those mysterious beauties which belong to 
solitary or uncultivated nature. Near the kitchen was 
a well surrounded by a curb, with a pulley fastened 
to a bent iron rod clasped by a vine whose leaves 
were withered, reddened, and shrivelled by the sea- 
son. From thence the tortuous shoots straggled to 
the wall, clutched it, and ran the whole length of 
the house, ending near the wood-pile, where the logs 
were ranged with as much precision as the books in a 
library. The pavement of the court-yard showed the 
black stains produced in time by lichens, herbage, and 
the absence of all movement or friction. The thick 
walls wore a coating of green moss streaked with wav- 
ing brown lines, and the eight stone steps at the 
bottom of the court-yard which led up to the gate of 
the garden were disjointed and hidden beneath tall 
plants, like the tomb of a knight buried by his widow 
in the days of the Crusades. Above a foundation of 
moss-grown, crumbling stones was a trellis of rotten 
wood, half fallen from decay ; over them clambered 
and intertwined at will a mass of clustering creepers. 
On each side of the latticed gate stretched the crooked 
arms of two stunted apple-trees. Three parallel walks, 
gravelled and separated from each other by square 

beds, where the earth was held in by box-borders, made 

b 


82 


EugSnie Grandet, 


the garden, which terminated, beneath a terrace of the 
old walls, in a group of lindens. At the farther end 
were raspberry-bushes ; at the other, near the house, 
an immense walnut-tree drooped its branches almost 
into the window of the miser’s sanctum. 

A clear day and the beautiful autumnal sun common 
to the banks of the Loire were beginning to melt the 
hoar-frost which the night had laid on these picturesque 
objects, on the walls, and on the plants which swathed 
the garden and the court-yard. Eugenie found a novel 
charm in the aspect of things lately so insignificant to 
her. A thousand confused thoughts came to birth in 
her mind and grew there, as the sunbeams grew with- 
out along the wall. She felt that impulse of delight, 
vague, inexplicable, which wi’aps the moral being as 
a cloud wraps the physical bod3^ Her thoughts were 
all in keeping with the details of this strange landscape, 
and the harmonies of her heart blended with the har- 
monies of nature. When the sun reached an angle 
of the wall where the “ Venus-hair” of southern climes 
drooped its thick leaves, lit with the changing colors of 
a pigeon’s breast, celestial rays of hope illumined the 
future to her eyes, and thenceforth she loved to gaze 
upon that piece of wall, on its pale flowers, its blue 
harebells, its wilting herbage, with which she mingled 
memories as tender as those of childhood. The noise 
made by each leaf as it fell from its twig in the void 


EugMe G-randet, 


83 


of that echoing court gave answer to the secret ques- 
tionings of the young girl, who could have stayed there 
the livelong day without perceiving the flight of time. 
Then came tumultuous heavings of the soul. She rose 
often, went to her glass, and looked at herself, as an 
author in good faith looks at his work to criticise it 
and blame it in his own mind. 

“ I am not beautiful enough for him ! ” Such was 
Eugenie’s thought, — a humble thought, fertile in suf- 
fering. The poor girl did not do herself justice £but 
modest}^, or rather fear, is among the first of love’s 
virtu^ Eugenie belonged to the type of children with 
sturdy constitutions, such as we see among the lesser 
bourgeoisie, whose beauties always seem a little vulgar ; 
and yet, though she resembled the Venus of IVIilo, the 
lines of her figure were ennobled by the softer Christian 
sentiment which purifies womanhood and gives it a 
distinction unknown to the sculptors of antiquity. She 
had an enormous head, with the masculine yet delicate 
forehead of the Jupiter of Phidias, and graj^ eyes, to 
which her chaste life, penetrating fully into them, 
carried a flood of light. The features of her round 
face, formerly fresh and rosy, were at one time swollen 
by the small-pox, which destroyed the velvet texture 
of the skin, though it kindly left no other traces, and 
her cheek was still so soft and delicate that her mother’s 
kiss made a momentary red mark upon it. Her nose 


84 


EugSnie Grandet. 


was somewhat too thick, but it harmonized well with 
the vermilion mouth, whose lips, creased in many lines, 
were full of love and kindness. The throat was ex- 
quisitel3^ round. The bust, well curved and carefully 
covered, attracted the eye and inspired re very. It 
lacked, no doubt, the grace which a fitting dress can 
bestow ; but to a connoisseur the non-fiexibility of her 
figure had its own charm. Eugenie, tall and strongly 
made, had none of the prettiness which pleases the 
masses ; but she was beautiful with a beauty which 
the spirit recognizes, and none but artists truly love. 
A painter seeking here below for a type of Mary’s 
celestial purity, searching womankind for those proud 
modest eyes which Raphael divined, for those virgin 
lines, often due to chances of conception, which the 
modesty of Christian life alone can bestow or keep 
unchanged, ^such a painter, in love with his ideal, 
would have found in the face of Eugenie the innate 
nobleness that is ignorant of itself ; he would have seen 
beneath the calmness of that brow a world of love ; he 
would have felt, in the shape of the eyes, in the fall 
of the e^^elids, the presence of the nameless something 
that we call divine. Her features, the contour of her 
head, which no expression of pleasure had ever altered 
or wearied, were like the lines of the horizon softly 
traced in the far distance across the tranquil lakes. 
That calm and ros^^ countenance, margined with light 


EugSnie G-randeU 


85 


like a lovely full-blown flower, rested the mind, held 
the eye, and imparted the charm of the conscience that 
was there reflected. Eugenie was standing on the 
shore of life where young illusions flower, where daisies 
are gathered with delights erelong to be unknown ; 
and thus she said, looking at her image in the glass, 
unconscious as yet of love: “ I am too ugly; he will 
not notice me.” 

Then she opened the door of her chamber which led 
to the staircase, and stretched out her neck to listen 
for the household noises. “ He is not up,” she thought, 
hearing Nanon’s morning cough as the good soul went 
and came, sweeping out the halls, lighting her Are, 
chaining the dog, and speaking to the beasts in the 
stable. Eugenie at once went down and ran to Nanon, 
who was milking the cow. 

“Nanon, my good Nanon, make a little cream for 
my cousin’s breakfast.” 

“Why, mademoiselle, you should have thought of 
that yesterday,” said Nanon, bursting into a loud peal 
of laughter. “I can’t make cream. Your cousin is 
a darling, a darling ! oh, that he is ! You should have 
seen him in his dressing-gown, all silk and gold ! I 
saw him, I did ! He wears linen as flne as the surplice 
of monsieur le cure.” 

“Nanon, please make us a galette” 

“ And who ’ll give me wood for the oven, and flour 


86 


Euginie Grandet, 


and butter for the cakes ?” said Nanon, who in her 
function of prime-minister to Grandet assumed at times 
enotmous importance in the eyes of Eugenie and her 
mother. “ Mustn’t rob the master to feast the cousin. 
You ask him for butter and flour and wood : he ’s your 
father, perhaps he ’ll give you some. See ! there he is 
now, coming to give out the provisions.” 

Eugenie escaped into the garden, quite frightened as 
she heard the staircase shaking under her father’s step. 
Already she felt the effects of that virgin modesty 
and that special consciousness of happiness which lead 
us to fancy, not perhaps without reason, that our 
thoughts are graven on our foreheads and are open 
to the eyes of all. Perceiving for the first time the 
cold nakedness of her father’s house, the poor girl felt 
a sort of rage that she could not put it in harmony with 
her cousin’s elegance. She felt the need of doing 
something for him, — what, she did not know. In- 
genuous and truthful, she followed her angelic nature 
without mistrusting her impressions or her feelings. 
The mere sight of her cousin had wakened within her the 
natural yearnings of a woman, — yearnings that were 
the more likely to develop ardently because, having 
reached her twenty-third year, she was in the plenitude 
of her intelligence and her desires. For the first time 
in her life her heart was full of terror at the sight of her 
father ; in him she saw the master of her fate, and she 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


87 


fancied herself guilty of wrong-doing in hiding from his 
knowledge certain thoughts. She walked with hasty 
steps, surprised to breathe a purer air, to feel the sun’s 
rays quickening her pulses, to absorb from their heat 
a moral warmth and a new life. As she turned over 
in her mind some stratagem by which to get the cake, 
a quarrel — an event as rare as the sight of swallows 
in winter — broke out between la Grande Nanon and 
Grandet. Armed with his keys, the master had come 
to dole out provisions for the day’s consumption. 

“Is there any bread left from yesterday ?” he said 
to Nanon. 

“ Not a crumb, monsieur.” 

Grandet took a large round loaf, well floured and 
moulded in one of the flat baskets which they use for 
baking in Anjou, and was about to cut it, when Nanon 
said to him, — 

“ We are flve, to-day, monsieur.” 

“That’s true,” said Grandet, “but your loaves 
weigh six pounds ; there ’ll be some left. Besides, these 
young fellows from Paris don’t eat bread, you’ll see.” 

“ Then they must eat frippe 9 ” said Nanon. 

Frippe is a word of the local lexicon of Anjou, 
and means any accompaniment of bread, from but- 
ter which is spread upon it, the commonest kind of 
frippe^ to peach preserve, the most distinguished of all 
the frippes ; those who in their childhood have licked 


88 


Eugenie GrandeL 


the frippe and left the bread, will comprehend the 
meaning of Nanon’s speech. 

“ No,” answered Grandet, “ the}^ eat neither bread 
nor frippe; they are something like marriageable girls.” 

After ordering the meals for the day with his usual 
parsimony, the goodman, haying locked the closets 
containing the supplies, was about to go towards the 
fruit-garden, when Nanon stopped him to say, — 

“Monsieur, give me a little flour and some butter, 
and I ’ll make a galette for the young ones.” 

“Are you going to pillage the house on account of 
my nephew ? ” 

“ I was n’t thinking any more of your nephew than 
I was of your dog, — not more than you think yourself; 
for, look here, you ’ve only forked out six bits of sugar. 
I want eight.” 

“What’s all this, Nanon? I have never seen you 
like this before. What have 3’ou got in 3"our head? 
Are. you the mistress here? You sha’n’t have more 
than six pieces of sugar.” 

“ Well, then, how is your nephew to sweeten his 
coffee?” 

“With two pieces ; I ’ll go without myself.” 

“ Go without sugar at your age ! I’d rather buy you 
some out of my own pocket.” 

“ Mind your own business.” 

In spite of the recent fall in prices, sugar was still 


EugSnie Q-randet, 


89 


In Grandet’s eyes the most valuable^f all the colonial 
products ; to him it was always six francs a pound. The 
necessity of economizing it, acquired under the Empire, 
had grown to be the most inveterate of his habits. 
All women, even the greatest ninnies, know how to 
dodge and double to get their ends ; Nanon abandoned 
the sugar for the sake of getting the galette. 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” she called through the window, 
“do you want some galette?'^ 

“ No, no,” answered Eugenie. 

“Come, Nanon,” said Grandet, hearing his daugh- 
ter’s voice, “ see here.” He opened the cupboard 
where the flour was kept, gave her a cupful, and 
added a few ounces of butter to the piece he had 
already cut off. 

“ I shall want wood for the oven,” said the implac- 
able Nanon. 

“Well, take what 3^ou want,” he answered sadlj^; 
“ but in that case you must make us a fruit- tart, .and 
you ’ll cook the whole dinner in the oven. In that wa^" 
3’ou won’t need two fires.” 

“Goodness!” cried Nanon, “you needn’t tell me 
that.” 

Grandet cast a look that was wellnigh paternal upon 
his faithful deputy. 

“ Mademoiselle,” she cried, when his back was 
turned, “we shall have the galette'" 


90 


Eugenie G-randet, 


Pere Grandet returned from the garden with the 
fruit and arranged a plateful on the kitchen-table. 

“Just see, monsieur,” said Nanon, “what pretty 
boots 3^our nephew has. What leather ! why it smells 
good ! What does he clean it with, I wonder ? Am 
I to put your egg-polish on it?” 

“Nanon, I think eggs would injure that kind of 
leather. Tell him you don’t know how to black mo- 
rocco ; yes, that ’s morocco. He will get you some- 
thing himself in Saumur to polish those boots with. I 
have heard that they put sugar into the blacking to 
make it shine.” 

“They look good to eat,” said the cook, putting 
the boots to her nose. “Bless me! if they don’t 
smell like madame’s eau-de-cologne. Ah! how 
funny ! ” 

“ Funny ! ” said her master. “ Do you call it funny 
to put more money into boots than the man who stands 
in them is worth ? ” 

“ Monsieur,” she said, when Grandet returned the 
second time, after locking the fruit-garden, “ won’t you 
have the poUau-feu put on once or twice a week on 
account of your nephew?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Am I to go to the butcher’s? ” 

“ Certainly not. We will make the broth of fowls ; 
the farmers will bring them. I shall tell Cornoiller 


Euginie G-randet. 91 

to shoot some crows ; they make the best soup in the 
world/^ 

“ Is n’t it true, monsieur, that crows eat the dead?” 

“ You are a fool, Nanon. They eat what they can 
get, like the rest of the world. Don’t we all live on the 
dead ? What are legacies ? ” 

Monsieur Grandet, having no further orders to 
give, drew out his watch, and seeing that he had 
half an hour to dispose of before breakfast, he took 
his hat, went and kissed his daughter, and said to her : 

“ Do you want to come for a walk in the fields, 
down by the Loire ^ I have something to do there.” 

Eugenie fetched her straw bonnet, lined with pink 
taffeta ; then the father and daughter went down the 
winding street to the shore. 

“Where are you going at this early hour?” said 
Cruchot, the notary, meeting them. 

“To see something,” answered Grandet, not duped 
by the matutinal appearance of his friend. 

When Pere Grandet went to “ see something,” the 
notary knew by experience there was something to be 
got by going with him ; so he went. 

“Come, Cruchot,” said Grandet, “you are one of 
my friends. I’ll show you what folly it is to plant 
poplar-trees on good ground.” 

“Do you call the sixty thousand francs that you 
pocketed for those that were in your fields down by 


92 


EugSnie Grandet 


the Loire, foil}"?” said Maitre Cruchot, opening his 
eyes with amazement. “What luck you have had! 
To cut down your trees at the very time they ran 
short of white-wood at Nantes, and to sell them at 
thirty francs ! ” 

Eugenie listened, without knowing that she ap- 
proached the most solemn moment of her whole life, 
and that the notary was about to bring down upon her 
head a paternal and supreme sentence. Grandet had 
now reached the magnificent fields which he owned on 
the banks of the Loire, where thirty workmen were 
employed in clearing awa}^ filling up, and levelling the 
spots formerly occupied by the poplars. 

“Maitre Cruchot, see how much ground this tree 
once took up! Jean,” he cried to a laborer, “ m-m- 
measure with your r-r-rule, b-both ways.” 

“ Four times eight feet,” said the man. 

“ Thirty-two feet lost,” said Grandet to Cruchot. 
“ I had three hundred poplars in this one line, is n’t that 
so? Well, then, three h-h-hundred times thir-thirtj^-two 
lost m-m-me five hundred in h-h-hay; add twice as 
much for the side rows, — fifteen hundred ; the middle 
rows as much more. So we may c-c-call it a th-thou- 
sand b-b-bales of h-h-haj’ — .” 

“Very good,” said Cruchot, to help out his friend; 

“ a thousand bales are worth about six hundred 
francs.” 


EugSnie GrandeL 


93 


“ Say t-t- twelve hundred, be-c-cause there ’s three or 
four hundred francs on the second crop. Well, then, 
c-c-calculate that t-twelve thousand francs a year for 
f-f-forty years with interest c-c-comes to — 

“ Say sixty thousand francs,” said the notary. 

I am willing ; c-c-comes t-t-to sixty th-th-thousand. 
Very good,” continued Grandet, without stuttering: 
“ two thousand poplars forty years old will only yield 
me fifty thousand francs. There’s a loss. I have 
found that myself,” said Grandet, getting on his high 
horse. “Jean, fill up all the holes except those at the 
bank of the river ; there you are to plant the poplars I 
have bought. Plant ’em there, and they ’ll get nourish- 
ment from the government,” he said, turning to Cru- 
chot and giving a slight motion to the wen on his nose, 
which expressed more than the most ironical of smiles. 

“ True enough ; poplars should only be planted on 
poor soil,” said Cruchot, amazed at Grandet’s calcu- 
lations. 

“ Y-y-yes, monsieur,” answered the old man satiri- 
cally. 

Eugenie, who was gazing at the sublime scenery of 
the Loire, and paying no attention to her father’s 
reckonings, presently turned an ear to the remarks of 
Cruchot when she heard him say, — 

“ So you have brought a son-in-law from Paris. All 
Saumur is talking about your nephew. I shall soon 


94 EugSnie Grrandet, 

have the marriage-contract to draw up, hey! Pere 
Gr^ndet? ” 

“ You g-g-got up very early to t-t-tell me that,” said 
Grandet, accompanying the remark with a motion of 
his wen. “Well, old c-c-comra-ade. I’ll be frank, and 
t-t-tell you what you want t-t-to know. I would 
rather, do you see, f-f-ling my daughter into the Loire 
than g-g-give her to her c-c-cousin. You may t-t-tell 
that everywhere, — no, never mind ; let the world 
t-t-talk.” 

This answer dazzled and blinded the young girl with 
sudden light. The distant hopes upspringing in her 
heart bloomed suddenly, became real, tangible, like a 
cluster of flowers, and she saw them cut down and wilt- 
ing on the earth. Since the previous evening she had at- 
tached herself to Charles by all those links of happiness 
which bind soul to soul ; from henceforth suflering was to 
rivet them. Is it not the noble destiny of women to be 
more moved by the dark solemnities of grief than by the 
splendors of fortune ? How was it that fatherly feeling 
had died out of her father’s heart? Of what crime had 
Charles been guilty ? Mj^sterious questions I Already 
her dawning love, a mystery so profound, was wrap- 
ping itself in mystery. She walked back trembling in 
all her limbs ; and when she reached the gloomy street, 
lately so joyous to her, she felt its sadness, she breathed 
the melancholy which time and events had printed there. 


EugSnie Cirandet. 


95 


None of love’s lessons lacked. A few steps from their 
own door she went on before her father and waited at 
the threshold. But Grandet, who saw a newspaper in 
the notary’s hand, stopped short and asked, — 

“ How are the Funds ? ” 

“ You never listen to my advice, Grandet,” answered 
Cruchot. ‘ ‘ Buy soon ; you will still make twenty per 
cent in two years, besides getting an excellent rate of 
interest, — five thousand a year for eighty thousand 
francs fifty centimes.” 

“We’ll see about that,” answered Grandet, rubbing 
his chin. 

“ Good God ! ” exclaimed the notary. 

“Well, what? ” cried Grandet ; and at the same mo- 
ment Cruchot put the newspaper under his eyes and said : 

“ Read that ! ” 

“ Monsieur Grandet, one of the most respected merchants 
in Paris, blew his brains out yesterday, after making his 
usual appearance at the Bourse. He had sent his resignation 
to the president of the Chamber of Deputies, and had also 
resigned his functions as a judge of the commercial courts. 
The failures of Monsieur Roguin and Monsieur Souchet, his 
broker and his notary, had ruined him. The esteem felt for 
Monsieur Grandet and the credit he enjoyed were neverthe- 
less such that he might have obtained the necessary assist- 
ance from other business houses. It is much to be regretted 
that so honorable a man should have yielded to momentary 
despair,^’ etc. 


96 


Eugenie Grrandet, 


“ I knew it,” said the old wine-grower to the notary’. 

The words sent a chill of horror through Maitre Cru- 
chot, who, notwithstanding his impassibilit}^ as a notary, 
felt the cold running down his spine as he thought that 
Grandet of Paris had possibly implored in vain the 
millions of Grandet of Saumur. 

“ And his son, so joyous yesterday — ” 

“ He knows nothing as yet,” answered Grandet, 
with the same composure. 

‘ ‘ Adieu ! Monsieur Grandet,” said Cruchot, who 
now understood the state of the case, and went off 
to reassure Monsieur de Bonfons. 

On entering, Grandet found breakfast ready. Ma- 
dame Grandet, round whose neck Eugenie had flung her 
arms, kissing her with the quick effusion of feeling often 
caused b}" secret grief, was already seated in her chair 
on castors, knitting sleeves for the coming winter. 

“You can begin to eat,” said Nanon, coming down- 
stairs four steps at a time ; “the young one is sleeping 
like a cherub. Is n’t he a darling with his eyes shut? 
I went in and I called him : no answer.” 

“Let him sleep,” said Grandet; “he’ll wake soon 
enough to hear ill-tidings.” 

“What is it?” asked Eugenie, putting into her 
coffee the two little bits of sugar weighing less than 
half an ounce which the old miser amused himself by 
cutting up in his leisure hours. Madame Grandet, 


EugSnie G-randeL 97 

who did not dare to put the question, gazed at her 
husband. 

“ His father has blown his brains out.^' 

“My uncle?” said Eugenie. 

“ Poor young man ! ” exclaimed Madame Grandet. 

“Poor indeed!” said Grandet; “he isn't worth a 
sou ! ” 

“Eh! poor boy, and he's sleeping like the king of 
the world ! ” said Nanon in a gentle voice. 

Eugenie stopped eating. Her heart was wrung, as 
the young heart is wrung when pity for the suffering 
of one she loves overflows, for the first time, the whole 
being of a woman. The poor girl wept. 

“What are you crying about? You didn't know 
your uncle,” said her father, giving her one of those 
hungry tigerish looks he doubtless threw upon his piles 
of gold. 

“But, monsieur,” said Nanon, “who wouldn't feel 
pit}^ for the poor young man, sleeping there like a 
wooden shoe, without knowing what's coming?” 

“ I did n't speak to you, Naiion. Hold your 
tongue ! ” 

Eugenie learned at that moment that the woman 
who loves must be able to hide her feelings. She did 
not answer. 

“ You will say nothing to him about it, Ma'ame Gran- 
det, till I return,” said the old man: “ I have to go 

7 


98 


EugSnie Grandet 


and straighten the line of my hedge along the high- 
road. I shall be back at noon, in time for the second 
breakfast, and then I will talk with my nephew about 
his affairs. As for you. Mademoiselle Eugenie, if it is 
for that dandy 3’ou are crying, that’s enough, child. 
He’s going off like a shot to the Indies. You will 
never see him again.” 

The father took his gloves from the brim of his hat, 
put them on with his usual composure, pushed them in 
place by shoving the fingers of both hands together, 
and went out. 

“Mamma, I am suffocating!” cried Eugenie when 
she was alone with her mother ; “ I have never suffered 
like this. ” 

Madame Grandet, seeing that she turned pale, opened 
the window and let her breathe fresh air. 

“ I feel better I ” said Eugenie after a moment. 

This nervous excitement in a nature hitherto, to all 
appearance, calm and cold, re-acted on Madame Gran- 
det ; she looked at her daughter with the sympathetic 
intuition with which mothers are gifted for the objects 
of their tenderness, and guessed all. In truth 
life of the Hungarian sisters, bound together by a 
freak of nature, could scarcely have been more intimate 
than that of Eugenie and her mother, — always to- 
gether in the embrasure of that window, and sleeping 
together in the same atmosphere. J 


EugSnie G-randeL 


99 


“My poor child!” said Madame Grandet, taking 
Eugenie’s head and laying it upon her bosom. 

At these words the young girl raised her head, ques- 
tioned her mother by a look, and seemed to search out 
her inmost thought. 

“ Why send him to the Indies?” she said. “If he 
is unhappy, ought he not to stay with us ? Is he not 
our nearest relation ? ” 

“Yes, my child, it seems natural; but your father 
has his reasons : we must respect them.” 

The mother and daughter sat down in silence, the 
former upon her raised seat, the latter in her little arm- 
chair, and both took up their work. Swelling with 
gratitude for the full heart-understanding her mother 
had given her, Eugenie kissed the dear hand, saying, — 

“ How good you are, my kind mamma I ” 

The words sent a glow of light into the motherly 
face, worn and blighted as it was by many sorrows. 

“ You like him? ” asked Eugenie. 

Madame Grandet only smiled in reply. Then, after a 
moment’s silence, she said in a low voice : “ Do you 
love him already ? That is wrong.” 

“ Wrong? ” said Eugenie. “ Why is it wrong ? You 
are pleased with him, Nanon is pleased with him ; why 
should he not please me? Come, mamma, let us set 
the table for his breakfast.” 

She threw down her work, and her mother did the 


LofC. 


100 


Eugenie Grandet, 


same, saying, “Foolish child!’’ But she sanctioned 
the child’s folly by sharing it. Eugenie called 
Nanon. 

“ What do you want now, mademoiselle? ” 

“ Nanon, can we have cream by midday? ” 

“Ah! midday, to be sure j^ou can,” answered the 
old servant. 

“ Well, let him have his coffee very strong ; I heard 
Monsieur des Grassins say that they make the coffee 
very strong in Paris. Put in a great deal.” 

“ Where am I to get it? ” 

“ Buy some.” 

“ Suppose monsieur meets me?” 

“ He has gone to his fields.” 

“ I ’ll run, then. But Monsieur Fessard asked me 
yesterday if the Magi had come to stay with us when 
I bought the wax candle. All the town will know our 
goings-on.” 

“ If your father finds it out,” said Madame Grandet, 
“ he is capable of beating us.” 

“Well, let him beat us; we will take his blows on 
our knees.” 

^ Madame Grandet for all answer raised her eyes to 
heaven. Nanon put on her hood and went off. Euge- 
nie got out some clean table-linen, and went to fetch 
a few bunches of grapes which she had amused herself 
by hanging on a string across the attic ; she walked 


Euginie Grandet, 


101 


softly along the corridor, so as not to waken her cousin, 
and she could not help listening at the door to his quiet 
breathing. 

“ Sorrow is watching while he sleeps,” she thought. 

She took the freshest vine-leaves and arranged her 
dish of grapes as coquettishly as a practised house- 
keeper might have done, and placed it triumphantly on 
the table. She laid hands on the pears counted out by 
her father, and piled them in a pyramid mixed with 
leaves. She went and came, and skipped and ran. 
She would have liked to lay under contribution every- 
thing in her father’s house ; but the keys were in his 
pocket. Nanon came back with two fresh eggs. At 
sight of them Eugenie almost hugged her round the 
neck. 

“ The farmer from Lande had them\in his basket. 
I asked him for them, and he gave them to me, the 
darling, for nothing, as an attention ! ” j 


102 


Eugenie Grandet. 



After two hours’ thought and care, during which 
Eugenie jumped up twenty times from her work to see 
if the coffee were boiling, or to go and listen to the 
noise her cousin made in dressing, she succeeded in 
preparing a simple little breakfast, very inexpensive, 
but which, nevertheless, departed alarmingly from the 
inveterate customs of the house. The midday breakfast 
was always taken standing. Each took a slice of 
bread, a little fruit or some butter, and a glass of wine. 
As Eugenie looked at the table drawn up near the fire 
with an arm-chair placed before her cousin’s plate, at 
the two dishes of fruit, the egg-cup, the bottle of white 
wine, the bread, and the sugar heaped up in a saucer, 
she trembled in all her limbs at the mere thought of the 
look her father would give her if he should come in 
at that moment. She glanced often at the clock to 
see if her cousin could breakfast before the master’s 
return. 

“Don’t be troubled, Eugenie; if your father comes 
in, I will take it all upon myself,” said Madame 
Grandet. 


EugSnie Grrandet. 


103 


Eugenie could not repress a tear. 

“ Oh, my good mother ! ” she cried, “ I have never 
loved you enough.” 

Charles, who had been tramping about his room for 
some time, singing to himself, now came down. Hap- 
pily, it was only eleven o’clock. The true Parisian ! he 
had put as much dandyism into his dress as if he were 
in the chateau of the noble lady then travelling in Scot- 
land. He came into the room with the smiling, cour- 
teous manner so becoming to youth, which made 
Eugenie’s heart beat with mournful joy. He had taken 
the destruction of his castles in Anjou as a joke, and 
came up to his aunt gayl}^ 

“ Have you slept well, dear aunt? and 3^ou, too, my 
cousin ? ” 

“Very well, monsieur; did you?” said Madame 
Grandet. 

“I? perfectly.” 

“You must be hungry, cousin,” said Eugenie; 
“will you take your seat?” 

“I never breakfast before midday; I never get up 
till then. However, I fared so badly on the journey 
that I am glad to eat something at once. Besides — ” 
here he pulled out the prettiest watch Breguet ever 
made. “Dear me! I am early, it is only eleven 
o’clock ! ” 

“ Early?” said Madame Grandet. 


104 


Euginie Grandet. 


“Yes; but I wanted to put my things in order. 
Well, I shall be glad to have something to eat, — any- 
thing, it does n’t matter what, a chicken, a partridge.’* 

“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed Nanon, overhearing the 
words. 

“A partridge!” whispered Eugenie to herself; she 
would gladly have given the whole of her little hoard 
for a partridge. 

“ Come and sit down,” said his aunt. 

The young dandy let himself drop into an easy-chair, 
just as a pretty woman falls gracefully upon a sofa. 
Eugenie and her mother took ordinary chairs and sat 
beside him, near the fire. 

“ Do you always live here?” said Charles, thinking 
the room uglier by daylight than it had seemed the 
night before. 

“ Always,” answered Eugenie, looking at him, “ex- 
cept during the vintage. Then we go and help Nanon, 
and live at the Abbaye des Noyers.” 

“ Don’t you ever take walks? ” 

“ Sometimes on Sunday after vespers, when the 
weather is fine,” said Madame Grandet, “ we walk on 
the bridge, or we go and watch the haymakers.” 

“ Have 3^ou a theatre ? ” 

“ Go to the theatre ! ” exclaimed Madame Grandet, 
“see a play! Wh}", monsieur, don’t you know it is 
a mortal sin?” 


EugSnie G-randet, 


105 


“ See here, monsieur,” said Nanon, bringing in the 
eggs, “here are your chickens, — in the shell.” 

“Oh! fresh eggs,” said Charles, who, like all people 
accustomed to luxury, had already' forgotten about his 
partridge, “ that is delicious ; now, if you wiU give me 
the butter, mj- good ghl.” 

“ Butter ! then you can’t have the galette'* 

“ Nanon, bring the butter,” cried Eugenie. 

The young girl watched her cousin as he cut his 
sippets, with as much pleasure as a grisette takes in a 
melodrama where innocence and virtue triumph. Charles, 
brought up by a charming mother, improved and trained 
by a woman of fashion, had the elegant, dainty, fop- 
pish movements of a coxcomb. The compassionate 
sympathy and tenderness of a j’oung girl possess a 
power that is actuall}^ magnetic ; so that Charles, find- 
ing himself the object t)f the attentions of his aunt and 
cousin, could not escape the infiuence of feelings which 
flowed towards him, as it were, and inundated him. He 
gave Eugenie a bright, caressing look full of kindness, 
— a look which seemed itself a smile. He perceived, 
as his eyes lingered upon her, the exquisite harmony 
of features in the pure face, the grace of her innocent 
attitude, the magic clearness of the eyes, where young 
love sparkled and desire shone unconsciousl3\ 

“Ah! my dear cousin, if you were in full dress at 
the Opera, I assure you m}^ aunt’s words would come 


106 


Eugenie Grandet 


true, — you would make the men commit the mortal 
sin of envy, and the women the sin of jealousy.” 

The compliment went to Eugenie’s heart and set it 
beating, though she did not understand its meaning. 

“ Oh ! cousin,” she said, “you are laughing at a poor 
little country girl.” 

“ If you knew me, my cousin, you would know that 
I abhor ridicule ; it withers the heart and jars upon all 
mj feelings.” Here he swallowed his buttered sippet 
very gracefull}^ ‘‘ No, I really have not enough mind 
to make fun of others ; and doubtless it is a great 
defect. In Paris, when they want to disparage a man, 
they say ; ‘ He has a good heart.’ The phrase means : 
‘ The poor feUow is as stupid as a rhinoceros.’ But as 
I am rich, and known to hit the bull’s-eye at thirty 
paces with any kind of pistol, and even in the open 
fields, ridicule respects me.” 

“ My dear nephew, that bespeaks a good heart.” 

“ You have a very pretty ring,” said Eugenie ; “is 
there any harm in asking to see it ? ” 

Charles held out his hand after loosening the ring, 
and Eugenie blushed as she touched the pink naUs of 
her cousin with the tips of her fingers. 

“ See, mamma, what beautiful workmanship.” 

“ My ! there ’s a lot of gold ! ” said Nanon, bringing 
in the coffee. 

“ What is that?” exclaimed Charles, laughing, as he 


Eugenie G-randet, 


107 


pointed to an oblong pot of brown earthenware, glazed 
on the inside, and edged with a fringe of ashes, from 
the bottom of which the coffee-grounds were bubbling 
up and falling in the boiling liquid. 

“ It is boiled coffee,’’ said Nanon. 

“Ah! my dear aunt, I shall at least leave one 
beneficent trace of my visit here. You are indeed 
behind the age ! I must teach you to make good coffee 
in a Chaptal coffee-pot.” 

He tried to explain the process of a Chaptal coffee- 
pot. 

“Gracious! if there are so many things as all that 
to do,” said Nanon, “ we may as well give up our lives 
to it. I shall never make coffee that way ; I know that ! 
Pray, who is to get the fodder for the cow while I make 
the coffee ? ” 

“ I will make it,” said Eugenie. 

“Child!” said Madame Grandet, looking at her 
daughter. 

The word recalled to their minds the sorrow that was 
about to fall upon the unfortunate young man; the 
three women were silent, and looked at him with an air 
of commiseration that caught his attention. 

“ Is anything the matter, my cousin? ” he said. 

“Hush!” said Madame Grandet to Eugenie, who 
was about to answer ; “ you know, my daughter, that 
your father charged us not to speak to monsieur — ” 


108 


Eugenie Grandet, 


“ Say Charles,” said young Grandet. 

“Ah! 3'ou are called Charles? What a beautiful 
name I ” cried Eugenie. 

Presentiments of evil are almost always justified. 
At this moment Nanon, Madame Grandet, and Eugenie, 
who had all three been thinking with a shudder of the 
old man’s return, heard the knock whose echoes they 
knew but too well. 

“ There ’s papa ! ” said Eugenie. 

She removed the saucer filled with sugar, leaving 
a few pieces on the table-cloth ; Nanon carried off the 
egg-cup ; Madame Grandet sat up like a frightened 
hare. It was evidently a panic, which amazed Charles, 
who was wholly unable to understand it. 

“ Why I what is the matter? ” he asked. 

“ My father has come,” answered Eugenie. 

“ Well, what of that? ” 

Monsieur Grandet entered the room, threw his keen 
e^’e upon the table, upon Charles, and saw the whole 
thing. 

“ Ha ! ha ! so you have been making a feast for j’our 
nephew ; very good, ver^^ good, very good indeed ! ” 
he said, without stuttering. “When the cat’s away, 
the mice will play.” 

“Feast!” thought Charles, incapable of suspecting 
or imagining the rules and customs of the household. 

“ Give me my glass, Nanon,” said the master. 


Euginie G-randet, 


109 


Eug4nie brought the glass. Grandet drew a horn- 
handled knife with a big blade from his breeches’ 
pocket, cut a slice of bread, took a small bit of butter, 
spread it carefully on the bread, and ate it standing. 
At this moment Charles was sweetening his coffee. 
Pere Grandet saw the bits of sugar, looked at his wife, 
who turned pale, and made three steps forward ; he 
leaned down to the poor woman’s ear and said, — 

“ Where did you get all that sugar? ” 

“ Nanon fetched it from Fessard’s ; there was none.” 

It is impossible to picture the profound interest the 
three women took in this mute scene. Nanon had left 
her kitchen and stood looking into the room to see what 
would happen. Charles, having tasted his coffee, found 
it bitter and glanced about for the sugar, which Grandet 
had already put away. 

“What do you want? ” said his uncle. 

“ The sugar.” 

“Put in more milk,” answered the master of the 
house ; “your coffee will taste sweeter.” 

Eugenie took the saucer which Grandet had put 
away and placed it on the table, looking calmly at 
her father as she did so. Most assuredly, the Parisian 
woman who held a silken ladder with her feeble arms 
to facilitate the flight of her lover, showed no greater 
courage than Eugenie displayed when she replaced the 
sugar upon the table. The lover rewarded his mistress 


no 


Euginie GrandeU 


when she proudly showed him her beautiful bruised arm, 
and bathed every swollen vein with tears and kisses 
till it was cured with happiness. Charles, on the other 
hand, never so much as knew the secret of the cruel 
agitation that shook and bruised the heart of his cousin, 
crushed as it was by the look of the old miser. 

“ You are not eating your breakfast, wife.” 

The poor helot came forward with a piteous look, cut 
herself a piece of bread, . and took a pear. Eugenie 
boldly offered her father some grapes, saying, — 

“Taste my preserves, papa. My cousin, you will 
eat some, will you not? I went to get these pretty 
grapes expressly for you.” 

“If no one stops them, they will pillage Saumur for 
you, nephew. When you have finished, we will go 
into the garden ; I have something to tell you which 
can’t be sweetened.” 

Eugenie and her mother cast a look on Charles whose 
meaning the young man could not mistake. 

“What is it you mean, uncle? Since the death of 
my poor mother ” — at these words his voice softened — 
“ no other sorrow can touch me.” 

“ My nephew, who knows by what afliictions God is 
pleased to try us ? ” said his aunt. 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta,” said Grandet, “ there ’s your non- 
sense beginning. I am sorry to see those white hands 
of yours, nephew;” and he showed the shoulder-of* 


EugSnie Qrandet, 


111 


mutton fists which Nature had put at the end of his 
own arms. “There’s a pair of hands made to pick 
up silver pieces. You Ve been brought up to put your 
feet in the kid out of which we make the purses we 
keep our money in. A bad look-out ! Very bad ! ” 

“What do you mean, uncle? I’ll be hanged if I 
understand a single word of what you are saying.” 

“ Come ! ” said Grandet. 

The miser closed the blade of his knife with a 
snap, drank the last of his wine, and opened the 
door. 

“ My cousin, take courage ! ” 

The tone of the young girl struck terror to Charles’s 
heart, and he followed his terrible uncle, a prey to dis- 
quieting thoughts. Eugenie, her mother, and Nanon 
went into the kitchen, moved by irresistible curiosity 
to watch the two actors in the scene which was about 
to take place in the garden, where at first the uncle 
walked silently ahead of the nephew. Grandet was not 
at all troubled at having to tell Charles of the death of 
his father; but he did feel a sort of compassion in 
knowing him to be without a penny, and he sought for 
some phrase or formula by which to soften the com- 
munication of that cruel truth. “ You have lost your 
father ” seemed to him a mere nothing to say ; fathers 
die before their children. But “ you are absolutely 
without means,” — all the misfortunes of life were 


112 


Eugenie GrandeL 


summed up in those words! Grandet walked round 
the garden three times, the gravel crunching under 
his heavy step. 

In the crucial moments of life our minds fasten upon 
the locality where joys or sorrows overwhelm us. 
Charles noticed with minute attention the box-borders 
of the little garden, the yellow leaves as they fluttered 
down, the dilapidated walls, the gnarled fruit-trees, — 
picturesque details which were destined to remain for- 
ever in his memory, blending eternally, by the mnemon- 
ics that belong exclusively to the passions, with the 
recollections of this solemn hour. 

“ It is very fine weather, very warm,” said Grandet, 
drawing a long breath. 

“Yes, uncle ; but why — ” 

“ Well, my lad,” answered his uncle, “ I have some 
bad news to give you. Your father is ill — ” 

“Then why am I here?” said Charles. “ Nanon,” 
he cried, “order post-horses! I can get a carriage 
somewhere ? ” he added, turning to his uncle, who 
stood motionless. 

“ Horses and carriages are useless,” answered Gran- 
det, looking at Charles, who remained silent, his eyes 
growing fixed. “Yes, my poor boy, you guess the 
truth, — he is dead. But that ’s nothing ; there is 
something worse : he blew out his brains.” 

“ My father I ” 


Euginie Grandet. 


113 


“Yes, but that’s not the worst; the newspapers 
are all talking about it. Here, read that.” 

Grandet, who had borrowed the fatal article from 
Cruchot, thrust the paper under his nephew’s eyes. 
The poor young man, still a child, still at an age when 
feelings wear no mask, burst into tears. 

“ That ’s good ! ” thought Grandet ; “his eyes fright- 
ened me. He ’ll be all right if he weeps. — That is 
not the worst, my poor nephew,” he said aloud, not 
noticing whether Charles heard him, “ that is nothing ; 
you will get over it : but — ” 

“ Never, never ! My father ! Oh, my father ! ” 

“ He has ruined you, you have n’t a penny.” 

“What does that matter? My father! Where is 
my father ? ” 

His sobs resounded horribly against those dreary 
walls and reverberated in the echoes. The three wo- 
men, filled with pity, wept also ; for tears are often 
as contagious g,s laughter. Charles, without listening 
further to his uncle, ran through the court and up the 
staircase to his chamber, where he threw himself across 
the bed and hid his face in the sheets, to weep in peace 
for his lost parents. 

“ The first burst must have its way,” said Grandet, 
entering the living-room, where Eugenie and her mother 
had hastily resumed their seats and were sewing with 
trembling hands, after wiping their ej^es. “But that 
8 


114 


EugSnie Grandet, 


young man is good for nothing ; his head is more taken 
up with the dead than with his money.” 

Eugenie shuddered as she heard her father’s comment 
on the most sacred of all griefs. From that moment 
she began to judge him. Charles’s sobs, though muf- 
fled, still sounded through the sepulchral house; and 
his deep groans, which seemed to come from the earth 
beneath, only ceased towards evening, after growing 
gradually feebler. 

‘ ‘ Poor young man ! ” said Madame Grandet. 

Fatal exclamation ! Pere Grandet looked at his 
wife, at Eugenie, and at the sugar-bowl. He recol- 
lected the extraordinary breakfast prepared for the 
unfortunate youth, and he took a position in the 
middle of the room. 

“Listen to me,” he said, with his usual composure. 
“ I hope that you will not continue this extravagance, 
Madame Grandet. I don’t give you my money to stuff 
that young fellow with sugar.” 

“ My mother had nothing to do with it,” said Euge- 
nie ; “ it was I who — ” 

“ Is it because j^ou are of age,” said Grandet, inter- 
rupting his daughter, “that you choose to contradict 
me? Remember, Eugenie — ” 

“Father, the son of your brother ought to receive 
from us — 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta ! ” exclaimed the cooper on four 


Euginie Qrandet, 


115 


chromatic tones; “the son of my brother this, my 
nephew that ! Charles is nothing at all to us ; he 
has n’t a farthing, his father has failed ; and when this 
dand}^ has cried his fill, off he goes from here. I won’t 
have him revolutionize m3" household.” 

“ What is ‘ failing,’ father? ” asked Eugenie. 

“ To fail,” answered her father, “is to commit the 
most dishonorable action that can disgrace a man.” 

“It must be a great sin,” said Madame Grandet, 
“ and our brother maj" be damned.” 

“ There, there, don’t begin with y"our litanies ! ” said 
Grandet, shrugging his shoulders. “ To fail, Eugenie,” 
he resumed, “is to commit a theft which the law, 
unfortunately, takes under its protection. People have 
given their propert}^ to Guillaume Grandet trusting to 
his reputation for honor and integiity ; he has made 
away with it all, and left them nothing but their eyes to 
weep with. A highway robber is better than a bank- 
rupt : the one attacks you and you can defend yourself, 
he risks his own life ; but the other — in short, Charles 
is dishonored.” 

The words rang in the poor girl’s heart and weighed 
it down with their heavy meaning. Upright and deli- 
cate as a flower born in the depths of a forest, she 
knew nothing of the world’s maxims, of its deceitful 
arguments and specious sophisms ; she therefore 
believed the atrocious explanation which her father 


116 


EugSnie Qrandet, 


gave her designedly, concealing the distinction which 
exists between an involuntary failure and an intentional 
one. 

“ Father, could you not have prevented such a mis- 
fortune?” 

“ My brother did not consult me. Besides, he owes 
four millions.” 

“What is a ‘million,’ father?” she asked, with the 
simplicity of a child which thinks it can find out at once 
all that it wants to know. 

“A million?” said Grandet, “ why, it is a million 
pieces of twenty sous each, and it takes five twenty- 
sous pieces to make five francs.” 

“Dear me !” cried Eugenie, “how could my uncle 
possibty have had four millions? Is there any one 
else in France who ever had so many millions ? ” Pere 
Grandet stroked his chin, smiled, and his wen seemed 
to dilate. “ But what will become of my cousin 
Charles ? ” 

“ He is going off to the West Indies by his father’s 
request, and he will try to make his fortune there.” 

“ Has he got the money to go with? ” 

“I shall pay for his journey as far as — yes, as 
far as Nantes.” 

Eugenie sprang into his arms. 

“Oh, father, how good 3'ou are ! ” 

She kissed him with a warmth that almost made 


Euginie Grandet, 117 

Granclet ashamed of himself, for his conscience galled 
him a little. 

“Will it take much time to amass a million ? ’^ she 
asked. 

“ Look here ! ” said the old miser, “ you know what 
a napoleon is? Well, it takes fifty thousand napoleons 
to make a million.” 

“ Mamma, we must say a great many neuvaines for 
him.” 

“ I was thinking so,” said Madame Grandet. 

“That’s the way, alwaj^s spending my money!” 
ciied the father. “ Do you think there are francs on 
every bush? ” 

At this moment a muffled cry, more distressing than 
all the others, echoed through the garrets and struck 
a chill to the hearts of Eugenie and her mother. 

“Nanon, go upstairs and see that he does not 
kill himself,” said Grandet. “Now, then,” he added, 
looking at his wife and daughter, who had turned pale 
at his words, “ no nonsense, you two! I must leave 
you; I have got to see about the Dutchmen who are 
going away to-da3^ And then I must find Cruchot, 
and talk with him about all this.” 

He departed. As soon as he had shut the door 
Eugenie and her mother breathed more freely. Until 
this morning the young girl had never felt constrained 
in the presence of her father; but for the last few 


118 Eugenie QrandeU 

hours every moment wrought a change in her feelings 
and ideas. 

“ Mamma, how many louis are there in a cask of 
wine ? ” 

“Your father sells his from a hundred to a hundred 
and fifty francs, sometimes two hundred, — at least, so 
I Ve heard say.” 

“ Then papa must be rich? ” 

“ Perhaps he is. But Monsieur Cruchot told me 
he bought Froidfond two years ago ; that may have 
pinched him.” 

Eugenie, not being able to understand the ques- 
tion of her father’s fortune, stopped short in her 
calculations. 

“ He did n’t even see me, the darling ! ” said Nanon, 
coming back from her errand. “He’s stretched out 
like a calf on his bed and crying like the Madeleine, 
and that’s a blessing! What’s the matter with the 
poor dear young man?” 

“Let us go and console him, mamma; if any one 
knocks, we can come down.” 

Madame Grandet was helpless against the sweet per- 
suasive tones of her daughter’s voice. Eugenie was 
sublime : she had become a woman. The two, with 
beating hearts, went up to Charles’s room. The door 
was open. The young man heard and saw nothing; 
plunged in grief, he only uttered inarticulate cries. 


/ 


Eugenie Grandet, 119 

“How he loves his father!” said Eugenie in alow 
voice. 

In the utterance of those words it was impossible 
to mistake the hopes of a heart that, unknown to itself, 
had suddenly become passionate. Madame Grandet 
cast a mother’s look upon her daughter, and then 
whispered in her ear, — 

“ Take care, you will love him ! ” 

“ Love him ! ” answered Eugenie. “ Ah ! if you did 
but know what my father said to Monsieur Cruchot.” 

Charles turned over, and saw his aunt and cousin. 

“ I have lost my father, my poor father I If he had 
told me his secret troubles we might have worked to- 
gether to repair them. My God I my poor father ! I 
was so sure I should see him again that I think I kissed 
him quite coldly — ” 

Sobs cut short the words. 

“We will pray for him,” said Madame Grandet. 
“ Resign yourself to the will of God.” 

“ Cousin,” said Eugenie, “ take courage ! Your loss 
is irreparable ; therefore think only of saving your 
honor.” 

With the delicate instinct of a woman who intui- 
tively puts her mind into all things, even at the mo- 
ment when she offers consolation, Eugenie sought 
to cheat her cousin’s grief by turning his thoughts 
inward upon himself. 


120 


Euginie Grandet, 


“My honor?” exclaimed the young man, tossing 
aside his hair with an impatient gesture as he sat up 
on his bed and crossed his arms. “Ah! that is true. 
M3" uncle said my father had failed.” He uttered a 
heart-rending crj", and hid his face in his hands. 
“Leave me, leave me, cousin! M3" God! m3" God! 
forgive m3’ father, for he must have suffered sorel3" ! ” 

There was something terribly attractive in the sight 
of this young sorrow, sincere without reasoning or after- 
thought. It was a virgin grief which the simple hearts 
of Eugenie and her mother were fitted to comprehend, 
and they obeyed the sign Charles made them to leave 
him to himself. They went downstairs in silence and 
took their accustomed places b3" the window and sewed 
for nearly an hour without exchanging a word. Euge- 
nie had seen in the furtive glance she cast about the 
3’oung man’s room — that girlish glance which sees all 
in the twinkling of an eye — the pretty trifles of his 
dressing-case, his scissors, his razors embossed with 
gold. This gleam of luxur3" across her cousin’s grief 
only made him the more interesting to her, possibl3’ by 
way of contrast. Never before had so serious an event, 
so dramatic a sight, touched the imaginations of these 
two passive beings, hitherto sunk in the stillness and 
calm of solitude. 

“ Mamma,” said Eugenie, “ we mast wear mourning 
for my uncle.” 


Euginie Grandet, 121 

“ Your father will decide that,” answered Madame 
Grandet. 

They relapsed into silence. Eugenie drew her stitches 
with a uniform motion which revealed to an observer 
the teeming thoughts of her meditation. The first 
desire of the giiTs heart was to share her cousin’s 
mourning. 


122 EugSnie Grandet, 

J 


VI. 

About four o’clock an abrupt knock at the door 
struck sharply on the heart of Madame Grandet. 

“ What can have happened to your father? ” she said 
to her daughter. 

Grandet entered joyously. After taking off his 
gloves, he rubbed his hands hard enough to take off 
their skin as well, if his epidermis had not been tanned 
and cured like Russia leather, — saving, of course, the 
perfume of larch-trees and incense. Presently his 
secret escaped him. 

“Wife,” he said, without stuttering, “I’ve trapped 
them all ! Our wine is sold ! The Dutch and the 
Belgians have gone. I walked about the market-place 
in front of their inn, pretending to be doing nothing. 
That Belgian fellow — you know who I mean — came up 
to me. The owners of all the good vineyards have kept 
back their vintages, intending to wait ; well, I did n’t 
hinder them. The Belgian was in despair ; I saw that. 
In a minute the bargain was made. He takes my 
vintage at two hundred francs the puncheon, half down. 
He paid me in gold ; the notes are drawn. Here are 


Euginie Qrandet, 123 

six louis for you. In three months wines will have 
fallen.” 

These words, uttered in a quiet tone of voice, were 
nevertheless so bitterly sarcastic that the inhabitants 
of Saumur, grouped at this moment in the market-place 
and overwhelmed by the news of the sale Grandet had 
just effected, would have shuddered had they heard 
them. Their panic would have brought the price of 
wines down fifty per cent at once. 

“Did you have a thousand puncheons this year, 
father?” 

“Yes, little one.” 

That term applied to his daughter was the superlative 
expression of the old miser’s joy. 

‘ ‘ Then that makes two hundred thousand pieces of 
twenty sous each ? ” 

“Yes, Mademoiselle Grandet.” 

“ Then, father, you can easily help Charles.” 

The amazement, the anger, the stupefaction of Bel- 
shazzar when he saw the Mene- Tehel- Upharsin before 
his eyes is not to be compared with the cold rage of 
Grandet, who, having forgotten his nephew, now found 
him enshrined in the heart and calculations of his 
daughter. 

“ What’s this? Ever since that dandy put foot in my 
house everjrthing goes wrong ! You behave as if 3^ou 
had the right to buy sugar-plums and make feasts and 


124 


EugSnie Grandet 


weddings. I won’t have that sort of thing. I hope 
I know my duty at my time of life ! I certainly sha’n’t 
take lessons from m}^ daughter, or from anybody else. 
I shall do for my nephew what it is proper to do, and 
you have no need to poke your nose into it. As for 
you, Eugenie,” he added, facing her, “ don’t speak of 
this again, or I ’ll send you to the Abbaye des Noj'ers 
with Nanon, see if I don’t ; and no later than to-morrow 
either, if you disobey me ! Where is that fellow, has 
he come down yet? ” 

“ No, my friend,” answered Madame Grandet. 

“ What is he doing then? ” 

“ He is weeping for his father,” said Eugenie, 
^'^^randet looked at his daughter without finding a 
word to say ; after all, he was a father. He made a 
couple of turns up and down the room, and then went 
hurriedly to his secret den to think over an investment 
he was meditating in the public Funds. The thinning 
out of his two thousand acres of forest land had ^fielded 
him six hundred thousand francs : putting this sum to 
that derived from the sale of his poplars and to his other 
gains for the last year and for the current year, he had 
amassed a total of nine hundred thousand francs, with- 
out counting the two hundred thousand he had got by 
the sale just concluded. The twent}' per cent which 
Cruchot assured him he would gain in a short time from 
the Funds, then quoted at seventy, tempted him. He 


EugSnie Grandet. 


125 


figured out his calculation on the margin of the news- 
paper which gave the account of his brother’s death, 
all the while hearing the moans of his nephew, but with- 
out listening to them. Nanon came and knocked on 
the wall to summon him to dinner. On the last step 
of the staircase he was saying to himself as he came 
down, — 

“ I ’ll do it ; I shall get eight per cent interest. In 
two years I shall have fifteen hundred thousand francs, 
which I will then draw out in good gold. — Well, 
where ’s my nephew ? ” 

“He says he doesn’t want anything to eat,” an- 
swered Nanon ; “ that ’s not good for him.” 

“ So much saved,” retorted her master. 

“ That ’s so,” she said. 

“ Bah ! he won’t cry long. Hunger drives the wolves 
out of the woods.” 

The dinner was eaten in silence. 

“ My good friend,” said Madame Grandet, when the 
cloth was removed, “ we must put on mourning.” 

“Upon my word, Madame Grandet! what will you 
invent next to spend money on ? Mourning is in the 
heart, and not in the clothes.” 

“But mourning for a brother is indispensable ; and 
the Church commands us to — ” 

“Buj" your mourning out of your six louis. Give 
me a hat-band ; that ’s enough for me.” 


126 


Eugenie Grandet, 


Eugenie raised her e3’es to heaven without uttering 
a word. Her generous instincts, slumbering and long 
repressed but now suddenly and for the first time awak- 
ened, were galled at every turn. The evening passed 
to all appearance like a thousand other evenings of 
their monotonous life, yet it was certainly the most 
horrible. Eugenie sewed without raising her head, 
and did not use the workbox which Charles had de- 
spised the night before. Madame Grandet knitted her 
sleeves. Grandet twirled his thumbs for four hours, 
absorbed in calculations whose results were on the 
morrow to astonish Saumur. No one came to visit 
the famil}" that day. The whole town was ringing with 
the news of the business trick just played by Grandet, 
the failure of his brother, and the arrival of his nephew. 
Obeying the desire to gossip over their mutual inter- 
ests, all the upper and middle class wine-growers in 
Saumur met at Monsieur des Grassins, where terrible 
imprecations were being fulminated against the ex- 
mayor. Nanon was spinning, and the whirr of her 
wheel was the only sound heard beneath the gray 
rafters of that silent hall. 

“ We don’t waste our tongues,” she said, showing 
her teeth, as large and white as peeled almonds. 

“Nothing should be wasted,” answered Grandet, 
rousing himself from his re very. He saw a perspective 
of eight millions in three years, and he was sailing 


EugSnie Grandet, 


127 


along that sheet of gold. “ Let us go to bed. I will 
bid my nephew good-night for the rest of you, and see 
if he will take anj'thing.” 

Madame Grandet remained on the landing of the 
first storey to hear the conversation that was about to 
take place between the goodman and his nephew. Eu- 
genie, bolder than her mother, went up two stairs. 

“Well, nephew, you are in trouble. Yes, weep, 
that ’s natural. A father is a father ; but we must bear 
our troubles patiently. I am a good uncle to j^ou, re- 
member that. Come, take courage ! Will 3^ou have a 
little glass of wine ? ” (Wine costs nothing in Saumur, 
and they offer it as tea is offered in China.) “ Wh}" ! ’’ 
added Grandet, “ j^ou have got no light ! That ’s bad, 
ver}^ bad ; you ought to see what 3^ou are about,” and 
he walked to the chimney-piece. “What’s this?” he 
cried. “ A wax candle ! How the devil did they filch 
a wax candle? The spendthrifts would tear down the 
ceilings of my house to boil the fellow’s eggs.” 

Hearing these words, mother and daughter slipped 
back into their rooms and burrowed in theii’ beds, with 
the celerity of frightened mice getting back to their 
holes. 

“Madame Grandet, have you found a mine? ’’said 
the man, coming into the chamber of his wife. 

“ My friend, wait; I am saying my prayers,” said 
the poor mother in a trembling voice. 


128 


Eugenie G-randet, 


“ The devil take your good God ! ” growled Grandet 
in reply. 

Misers have no belief in a future life : the present 
is their all in all. This thought casts a terrible light 
upon our present epoch, in which, far more than at any 
former period, money sways the laws and politics and 
morals. Institutions, books, men, and dogmas, all con- 
spire to undermine belief in a future life, — a belief upon 
which the social edifice has rested for eighteen hundred 
years. The grave, as a means of transition, is little 
feared in our day. The future, which once opened to us 
beyond the requiems, has now been imported into the 
present. To obtain per fas et nefas a terrestrial para- 
dise of luxury and earthly enjoj^ment, to harden the 
heart and macerate the body for the sake of fleeting 
possessions, as the martyrs once suflfered all things to 
reach eternal joys, this is now the universal thought — 
a thought written everywhere, even in the very laws 
which ask of the legislator, “What do you pa}^?’’ in- 
stead of asking him, ‘ ‘ What do you think ? ” When 
this doctrine has passed down from the bourgeoisie to 
the populace, where will this countrj^ be? 

“Madame Grandet, have you done?” asked the old 
man. 

“ My friend, I am praying for you.” 

“Very good! Good-night; to-morrow morning we 
will have a talk I ” 


Eugenie G-randet, 


129 


The poor woman went to sleep like a schoolboy who, 
not having learned his lessons, knows he will see his 
master’s angiy face on the morrow. At the moment 
when, filled with fear, she was drawing the sheet above 
her head that she might stifle hearing, Eugenie, in her 
night-gown and with naked feet, ran to her side and 
kissed her brow. 

“ Oh ! my good mother,” she said, “ to-morrow I will 
tell him it was I. ” 

“ No ; he would send you to Noyers. Leave me to 
manage it ; he cannot eat me.” 

“ Do 3’ou hear, mamma? ” 

“ What?” 

“ He is weeping still.” 

“Go to bed, my daughter ; you will take cold in 
3"Our feet : the floor is damp.” 

Thus passed the solemn day which was destined to 
weigh upon the whole life of the rich and poor heiress, 
whose sleep was never again to be so calm, nor yet so 
pure, as it had been up to this moment. It often hap- 
pens that certain actions of human life seem, literally 
speaking, improbable, though actual. Is not this be- 
cause we constantly" omit to turn the stream of psy"- 
chologic light upon our impulsive determinations, and 
fail to explain the subtile reasons, mysteriously con- 
ceived in our minds, which impelled them? Perhaps 

9 


130 


EugSnie Grandet, 


Eugenie’s deep passion should be analyzed in its most 
delicate fibres ; for it became, scoffers might say, a mal- 
adj" which infiuenced her whole existence. Man}" people 
prefer to deny results rather than estimate the force of 
ties and links and bonds, which secretly join one fact 
to another in the moral order. Here, therefore, Euge- 
nie’s past life will offer to observers of human nature 
an explanation of her naive want of refiection and the 
suddenness of the emotions which overfiowed her soul. 
The more tranquil her life had been, the more vivid was 
her womanly pity, the more simple-minded were the 
sentiments now developed in her soul. 

Made restless by the events of the day, she woke at 
intervals to listen to her cousin, thinking she heard the 
sighs which still echoed in her heart. Sometimes she 
saw him dying of his trouble, sometimes she dreamed 
that he fainted from hunger. Towards morning 
she was certain that she heard a startling cry. She 
dressed at once and ran, in the dawning light, with a 
swift foot to her cousin’s chamber, the door of which he 
had left open. The candle had burned down to the 
socket. Charles, overcome by nature, was sleeping, 
dressed and sitting in an armchair beside the bed, on 
which his head rested ; he dreamed as men dream on 
an empty stomach. Eugenie might weep at her ease ; 
she might admire the young and handsome face blotted 
with grief, the eyes swollen with weeping, that seemed. 


EugSnie G-randeU 


131 


sleeping as they were, to well forth tears. Charles felt 
s^'mpatheticallj' the young giiTs presence ; he opened 
his eyes and saw her pit3lng him. 

“Pardon me, my cousin,” he said, evidently not 
knowing the hour nor the place in which he found him- 
self. 

“There are hearts who hear you, cousin, and we 
thought 3’ou might need something. You should go to 
bed ; you tire 3’ourself by sitting thus.” 

“ That is true.” 

“ Well, then, adieu ! ” 

She escaped, ashamed and happy at having gone 
there. Innocence alone can dare to be so bold. Once 
enlightened, virtue makes her calculations as well as 
vice. Eugenie, who had not trembled beside her cousin, 
could scarce!}" stand upon her legs when she regained 
her chamber. Her ignorant life had suddenlj" come to 
an end ; she reasoned, she rebuked herself with many 
reproaches. 

“ What will he think of me? He will think that I 
love him ! ” 

That was what she most wished him to think. An 
honest love has its own prescience, and knows that 
love begets love. What an event for this poor solitary 
girl thus to have entered the chamber of a young man ! 
Are there not thoughts and actions in the life of love 
which to certain souls bear the full meaning of the 


132 


Eugenie G-randet 


holiest espousals? An hour later she went to her 
mother and dressed her as usual. Then they both 
came down and sat in their places before the window 
waiting for Grandet, with that cruel anxiety which, 
according to the individual character, freezes the heart 
or warms it, shrivels or dilates it, when a scene is 
feared, a punishment expected, — a feeling so natural 
that even domestic animals possess it, and whine at the 
slightest pain of punishment, though they make no 
outcry when thej- inadvertently hurt themselves. The 
goodman came down ; but he spoke to his wife with an 
absent manner, kissed Eugenie, and sat down to table 
without appearing to remember his threats of the night 
before. 

“ What has become of my nephew? The lad gives 
no trouble.” 

“ Monsieur, he is asleep,” answered Nanon. 

“ So much the better ; he won’t want a wax candle,” 
said Grandet in a jeering tone. 

This unusual clemency, this bitter gayety, struck Ma- 
dame Grandet with amazement, and she looked at her 
husband attentively. The goodman — here it may be 
well to explain that in Touraine, Anjou, Poitou, and 
Bretagne the word “goodman,” already used to desig- 
nate Grandet, is bestowed as often upon harsh and cruel 
men as upon those of kindly temperament, when either 
have reached a certain age ; the title means nothing 


Eugenie Grandet, 


133 


on the score of individual gentleness — the goodman 
took his hat and gloves, saying as he went out, — 

“ I am going to loiter about the market-place and 
find Cruchot/' 

“Eugenie, your father certainly has something on 
his mind.’’ 

Grandet, who was a poor sleeper, employed half his 
nights in the preliminary calculations which gave such 
astonishing accuracy to his views and observations and 
schemes, and secured to them the unfailing success at 
sight of which his townsmen stood amazed. All hu- 
man power is a compound of time and patience. Pow^ 
erful beings will and wait. The life of a miser is the 
constant exercise of human power put to the service of 
self. It rests on two sentiments onlj^, — self-love and 
self-interest; but self-interest being to a certain ex- 
tent compact and intelligent self-love, the visible sign 
of real superiority, it follows that self-love and self- 
interest are two parts of the same whole, — egotism. 
From this arises, perhaps, the excessive curiosity shown 
in the habits of a miser’s life whenever they are put 
before the world. Every nature holds by a thread to 
those beings who challenge all human sentiments by 
concentrating all in one passion. Where is the man 
without desire ? and what social desire can be satisfied 
without money ? 

Grandet unquestionably “had something on his 


134 


EugSnie Grandet, 


mind,” to use his wife’s expression. There was in him, 
as in all misers, a persistent craving to play a commer- 
cial game with other men and win their money legall3% 
To impose upon other people was to him a sign of 
power, a perpetual proof that he had won the right to 
despise those feeble beings who suffer themselves to be 
pre^’ed upon in this world. Oh ! who has ever truly un- 
derstood the lamb lying peacefully at the feet of God ? 
— touching emblem of all terrestrial victims, myth of 
their future, suffering and weakness glorified ! This 
lamb it is which the miser fattens, puts in his fold, 
slaughters, cooks, eats, and then despises. The pasture 
of misers is compounded of money and disdain. During 
the night Grande t’s ideas had taken another course, 
which was the reason of his sudden clemency. He had 
hatched a plot by which to trick the Parisians, to decoy 
and dupe and snare them, to drive them into a trap, 
and make them go and come and sweat and hope and 
turn pale, — a plot by which to amuse himself, the old 
provincial cooper, sitting there beneath his gloomj' raft- 
ers, or passing up and down the rotten staircase of his 
house in Saumur. His nephew filled his mind. He 
wished to save the honor of his dead brother without 
the cost of a penny to the son or to himself. His own 
funds he was about to invest for three years ; he had 
therefore nothing further to do than to manage his 
property in Saumur. He needed some nutriment for his 


Eugenie Grandet, 


135 


malicious activity, and he found it suddenly in his 
brother’s failure. Feeling nothing to squeeze between 
his own paws, he resolved to crush the Parisians in be- 
half of Charles, and to play the part of a good brother 
on the cheapest terms. The honor of the family 
counted for so little in this scheme that his good inten- 
tions might be likened to the interest a gambler takes 
in seeing a game well played in which he has no stake. 
The Cruchots were a necessary part of his plan ; but 
he would not seek them, — he resolved to make them 
come to him, and to lead up that very evening to 
a comedy whose plot he had just conceived, which 
should make him on the morrow an object of admira- 
tion to the whole town without its costing him a single 
penny. ^ ’ ’ 

In her father’s absence Eugenie had the happiness 
of busying herself openl}^ with her much-loved cousin, 
of spending upon him fearlessly the treasures of her 
pity, — woman’s sublime superiority, the sole she de- 
sires to have recognized, the sole she pardons man for 
letting her assume. Three or four times the young girl 
went to listen to her cousin’s breathing, to know if he 
were sleeping or awake ; then, when he had risen, she 
turned her thoughts to the cream, the eggs, the fruits, 
the plates, the glasses, — all that was a part of his 
breakfast became the object of some special care. At 
length she ran lightly up the old staircase to listen to 


136 


Eugenie Grandet. 


the noise her cousin made. Was he dressing? Did he 
still weep ? She reached the door. 

“ My cousin ! ” 

“Yes, cousin.” 

“ Will you breakfast downstairs, or in your room? ” 

“ Where j^ou like.” 

“ How do you feel? ” 

“ Dear cousin, I am ashamed of being hungry.” 

This conversation, held through the closed door, was 
like an episode in a poem to Eugenie. 

“ Well, then, we will bring your breakfast to your 
own room, so as not to annoy m3' father.” 

She ran to the kitchen with the swiftness and light- 
ness of a bird. 

“ Nanon, go and do his room ! ” 

That staircase, so often traversed, which echoed to 
the slightest noise, now lost its deca3'ing aspect in the 
e3'es of Eugenie. It grew luminous ; it had a voice and 
spoke to her ; it was 3"Oung like herself, — oung like 
the love it was now serving. Her mother, her kind, 
indulgent mother, lent herself to the caprices of the 
child’s love, and after the room was put in order, both 
went to sit with the unhapp}^ 3'outh and keep him com- 
pany. Does not Christian charity make consolation a 
duty ? The two women drew a goodl}" number of little 
sophistries from their religion wherewith to justify 
their conduct. Charles was made the object of the 


Eugenie G-randet 


137 


tenderest and most loving care. His saddened heart 
felt the sweetness of the gentle friendship, the exquisite 
sj’mpathy which these two souls, crushed under perpet- 
ual restraint, knew so well how to display when, for 
an instant, they were left unfettered in the regions of 
suffering, their natural sphere. 

Claiming the right of relationship, Eugenie began to 
fold the linen and put in order the toilet articles which 
Charles had brought ; thus she could marvel at her ease 
over each luxurious bauble and the various knick- 
knacks of silver or chased gold, which she held long in 
her hand under a pretext of examining them. Charles 
could not see without emotion the generous interest his 
aunt and cousin felt in him ; he knew society in Paris 
well enough to feel assured that, placed as he now was, 
he would find ail hearts indifferent or cold. Eugenie 
thus appeared to him in the splendor of a special 
beauty, and from thenceforth he admired the innocence 
of life and manners which the previous evening he 
had been inclined to ridicule. So when Eugenie took 
from Nanon the bowl of coffee and cream, and began 
to pour it out for her cousin with the simplicity of 
real feeling, giving him a kindly glance, the eyes of 
the Parisian filled with tears ; he took her hand and 
kissed it. 

“ What troubles yon she said. 

“ Oh ! these are tears of gratitude,” he answered. 


138 EugSnie GrandeL 

Eugenie turned abruptly to the chimnej'-piece to take 
the candlesticks. 

“Here, Nanon, carry them awa}" ! ” she said. 

When she looked again towards her cousin she was 
still blushing, but her looks could at least deceive, and 
did not betray the excess of jo}^ which inundated her 
heart ; yet the eyes of both expressed the same senti- 
ment as their souls flowed together in one thought, — the 
future was theirs. This soft emotion was all the more 
precious to Charles in the midst of his heav^^ grief be- 
cause it was wholly unexpected. The sound of the 
knocker recalled the women to their usual station. 
Happily they were able to run downstairs with sufficient 
rapidity to be seated at their work when Grandet en- 
tered; had he met them under the archway it would 
have been enough to rouse his suspicions. After 
breakfast, which the goodman took standing, the 
keeper from Froidfrond, to whom the promised in- 
demnity had never jet been paid, made his appear- 
ance, bearing a hare and some partridges shot in the 
park, with eels and two pike sent as tribute bj" the 
millers. 

“Ha, ha! poor Cornoiller; here he comes, like fish 
in Lent. Is all that fit to eat ? ” 

“ Yes, my dear, generous master; it has been killed 
two days.” 

“Come, Nanon, bestir yourself,” said Grandet; 


EugSnie G-randet. 


139 


“take these things, they’ll do for dinner. I have 
invited the two Criichots.” 

Nanon opened her eyes, stupid with amazement, and 
looked at ever3’body in the room. 

“ Well ! ” she said, “ and how am I to get the lard 
and the spices?” 

“ Wife,” said Grandet, “ give Nanon six francs, and 
remind me to get some of the good wine out of the 
cellar.” 

“Well, then. Monsieur Grandet,” said the keeper, 
who had come prepared with an harangue for the pur- 
pose of settling the question of the indemnity, “ Mon- 
sieur Grandet — ” 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta ! ” said Grandet ; “I know what j^ou 
want to say. You are a good fellow ; we will see 
about it to-morrow, I ’m too busy to-da3\ Wife, 
give him five francs,” he added to Madame Grandet as 
he decamped. 

The poor woman was only too happy to buy peace at 
the cost of eleven francs. She knew that Grandet 
would let her alone for a fortnight after he had thus 
taken back, franc by franc, the money he had given 
her. 

“ Here, Cornoiller,” she said, slipping ten francs in- 
to the man’s hand, “ some da}^ we will reward your 
services.” 

Cornoiller could say nothing, so he went away. 


140 


Euginie Grandet. 


“ Madame,” said Nanon, who had put on her black 
coif and taken her basket, ‘ ‘ I want only three 
francs. You keep the rest ; it ’ll go fast enough some- 
how.” 

“ Have a good dinner, Nanon ; my cousin will come 
down,” said Eugenie. 

“ Something very extraordinary is going on, I am 
certain of it,” said Madame Grandet. “ This is onl}" 
the third time since our marriage that your father has 
given a dinner.” 

About four o’clock, just as Eugenie and her mother 
had finished setting the table for six persons, and after 
the master of the house had brought up a few bottles of 
the exquisite wine which provincials cherish with true 
aflfection, Charles came down into the hall. The j'oung 
fellow was pale ; his gestures, the expression of his face, 
his glance, and the tones of his voice, all had a sadness 
which was full of grace. He was not pretending grief, 
he truly suffered ; and the veil of pain cast over his 
features gave him an interesting air dear to the heart of 
women. Eugenie loved him the more for it. Perhaps 
she felt that sorrow drew him nearer to her. Charles 
was no longer the rich and distinguished j’oung man 
placed in a sphere far above her, but a relation plunged 
into frightful misery. /Misery begets equalit}". Women 
have this in common with the angels, — suflfering 


Eugenie Grandet, 


141 


humanity belongs to them. /Charles and Eugenie un- 
derstood each other and spoke only with their eyes ; 
for the poor fallen dandy, orphaned and impoverished, 
sat apart in a corner of the room, and was proudly calm 
and silent. Yet, from time to time, the gentle and ca- 
ressing glance of the young girl shone upon him and 
constrained him away from his sad thoughts, drawing 
him with her into the fields of hope and of futuritj^, 
where she loved to hold him at her side. 


142 


EugSnie Grandet, 


VII. 

At this moment the town of Saumur was more ex- 
cited about the dinner given by Grandet to the Cruchots 
than it had been the night before at the sale of his 
vintage, though that constituted a crime of high-treason 
against the whole wine-growing communit3\ If the 
politic old miser had given his dinner from the same 
idea that cost the dog of Alcibiades his tail, he might 
perhaps have been called a great man ; but the fact is, 
considering himself superior to a community which he 
could trick on all occasions, he paid very little heed to 
what Saumur might say. 

The des Grassins soon learned the facts of the failure 
and the violent death of Guillaume Grandet, and they 
determined to go to their client’s house that very even- 
ing to commiserate his misfortune and show him some 
marks of friendship, with a view of ascertaining the 
motives which had led him to invite the Cruchots to 
dinner. At precisely five o’clock Monsieur C. de Bon- 
fons and his uncle the notary arrived in their Sunday 
clothes. The party sat down to table and began to 


Eugenie G-randet. 


143 


dine with good appetites. Grandet was grave, Charles 
silent, Eugenie dumb, and Madame Grandet did not 
say more than usual ; so that the dinner was, very prop- 
erly, a repast of condolence. When they rose from 
table Charles said to his aunt and uncle, — 

“Will 3’ou permit me to retire? I am obliged to 
undertake a long and painful correspondence.” 

“ Certainl}^ nephew.” 

As soon as the goodman was certain that Charles 
could hear nothing and was probably deep in his letter- 
writing, he said, with a dissimulating glance at his 
wife, — 

“ Madame Grandet, what we have to talk about will 
be Latin to you ; it is half-past seven ; 3"ou can go and 
attend to j^our household accounts. Good-night, my 
daughter.” 

He kissed Eugenie, and the two women departed. 
A scene now took place in which Pere Grandet brought 
to bear, more than at any other moment of his life, the 
shrewd dexterity he had acquired in his intercourse 
with men, and which had won him from those whose 
flesh he sometimes bit too sharply the nickname of “ the 
old dog.” If the mayor of Saumur had carried his 
ambition higher still, if fortunate circumstances, draw- 
ing him towards the higher social spheres, had sent him 
into congresses where the affairs of nations were dis- 
cussed, and had he there employed the genius with 


144 


EugSnie Grandet, 


which his personal interests had endowed him, he 
would undoubtedly have proved nobly useful to his na- 
tive land. Y et it is perhaps equallj" certain that outside 
of Saumur the goodman would have cut a very sorry 
figure. Possibly there are minds like certain animals 
which cease to breed when transplanted from the 
climates in which the}’ are born. 

“ M-m-mon-sieur le p-p-president, you said t-t-that 
b-b-bankruptcy — ” 

The stutter which for years the old miser had as- 
sumed when it suited him, and which, together with 
the deafness of which he sometimes complained in rainy 
weather, was thought in Saumur to be a natural defect, 
became at this crisis so wearisome to the two Cruchots 
that while they listened they unconsciously made faces 
and moved their lips, as if pronouncing the words over 
which he was hesitating and stuttering at will. Here 
it may be well to give the history of this impediment 
to the speech and hearing of Monsieur Grandet. No 
one in Anjou heard better, or could pronounce more 
crisply the French language (with an Angevin accent) 
than the wily old cooper. Some years earlier, in spite 
of his shrewdness, he had been taken in by an Israelite, 
who in the course of the discussion held his hand 
behind his ear to catch sounds, and mangled his mean- 
ing so thoroughly in trying to utter his words that 
Grandet fell a victim to his humanity and was com- 


Euginie Grandet. 


145 


pelled to prompt the wily Jew with the words and 
ideas he seemed to seek, to complete himself the argu- 
ments of the said Jew, to say what tliat cursed Jew 
ought to have said for himself; in short, to be the Jew 
instead of being Grandet. When the cooper came out 
of this curious encounter he had concluded the only 
bargain of which in the course of a long commercial 
life he ever had occasion to complain. But if he lost 
at the time pecuniarily, he gained morally a valuable 
lesson ; later, he gathered its fruits. Indeed, the 
goodman ended by blessing that Jew for having taught 
him the art of irritating his commercial antagonist 
and leading him to forget his own thoughts in his 
impatience to suggest those over which his tormentor 
was stuttering. No affair had ever needed the as- 
sistance of deafness, impediments of speech, and 
all the incomprehensible circumlocutions with which 
Grandet enveloped his ideas, as much as the affair 
now in hand. In the first place, he did not mean 
to shoulder the responsibility of his own scheme ; 
in the next, he was determined to remain master of 
the conversation and to leave his real intentions in 
doubt. 

M-m-monsieur de B-B-Bonfons,” — for the second 
time in three years Grandet called the Cruchot nephew 
Monsieur de Bonfons ; the president felt he might 
consider himself the artful old fellow’s son-in-law, — 
10 


146 


EugSnie Grandet. 


“ 3’ou-ou said tli-th-that b-b-bankruptcy c-c-could, in 
some c-c-cases, b-be p-p-prevented b-b-bj^ — 

“ By the courts of commerce themselves. It is done 
cOnstantl}',” said Monsieur C. de Bonfons, bestriding 
Grandet’s meaning, or thinking he guessed it, and kindly 
wishing to help him out with it. “ Listen.” 

“ Y-3’es,” said Grandet humblj", with the mischievous 
expression of a boy who is inwardly laughing at his 
teacher while he paj^s him the greatest attention. 

“ When a man so respected and important as, for 
example, j^our late brother — ” 

“ M-my b-b-brother, yes.” 

“ — is threatened with insolvencj" — ” 

“ Thej^ c-c-call it in-ins-s-solvencj^ ? ” 

“Yes; when his failure is imminent, the court of 
commerce, to which he is amenable (please follow me 
attentively^), has the power, by^ a decree, to appoint 
a receiver. Liquidation, you understand, is not the 
same as failure. When a man fails, he is dishonored ; 
but when he merely liquidates, he remains an honest 
man.” 

“ T-t-that ’s very d-d-different, if it d-does n’t c-c-cost 
m-m-more,” said Grandet. 

“ But a liquidation can be managed without having 
recourse to the courts at all. For,” said the president, 
sniffing a pinch of snuff, “ don’t you know how failures 
are declared ? ” 


Eugenie Grandet, 147 

“ N-n-no, I n-n-never t-t- thought,” answered Gran- 
det. 

“In the first place,” resumed the magistrate, “by 
filing the schedule in the record office of the court, 
which the merchant may do himself, or his representa- 
tive for him with a power of attornej^ duly certified. In 
the second place, the failure ma}^ be declared under 
compulsion from the creditors. Now if the merchant 
does not file his schedule, and if no creditor appears 
before the courts to obtain a decree of insolvency 
against the merchant, what happens ? ” 

“ W-w-what h-h-happens? ” 

“ Why, the family of the deceased, his representa- 
tives, his heirs, or the merchant himself, if he is not 
dead, or his friends if he is only hiding, liquidate his 
business. Perhaps you would like to liquidate your 
brother’s affairs ? ” 

“ Ah ! Grandet,” said the notary’’, “ that would be 
the right thing to do. There is honor down here in the 
provinces. If you save j^our name — for it is your 
name — you will be a man — ” 

“A noble man!” cried the president, interrupting 
his uncle. 

“ Certainly,” answered the old man, “ my b-b-broth- 
er’s name was G-G-Grandet, like m-m-mine. Th-that ’s 
c-c-certain ; I d-d-don’t d-d-deny it. And th-th-this 
1-1-liquidation might be, in m-m-many ways, v-v-very 


148 


Euginie Grandet, 


advan-t-t-tageous t-t-to the interests of m-m-my 
n-n-nephew, whom I 1-1-love. But I must consider. I 
don’t k-k-know the t-t-tricks of P-P-Paris. I b-b-belong 
to Sau-m-mur, d-d-don’t 3 ’ou see ? M-m-m}' vines, m 3 " 
d-d-drains — in short, I’ve m 3 " own b-b-business. I 
never g-g-give n-n-notes. What are n-n-notes ? I t^t-take 
a good m-m-man 3 ", but I have never s-s-signed one. 
1 d-d-don’t understand such things. I have h-h-heard 
say that n-n-notes c-c-can be b-b-bought up.” 

“Of course,” said the president. “Notes can be 
bought in the market, less so much per cent. Don’t 
3 "Ou understand?” 

Grandet made an ear- trumpet of his hand, and the 
president repeated his words. 

“ Well, then,” replied the old man, “ there ’s s-s-some- 
thing to be g-g-got out of it ? I k-know n-nothing at 
m 3 " age about such th-th-things. I 1-1-live here and 
1-1-look after the v-v-vines. The vines g-g-grow, and 
it ’s the w-w-wine that p-p-pa 3 "S. L-l-look after the 
v-v-vintage, t-t-that ’s m 3 " r-r-rule. M 3 " c-c-chief inter- 
ests are at Froidfond. I c-c-can’ 1 1-1-leave m 3 " h-h-house 
to m-m-muddle myself with a d-d-devilish b-b-business 
I kn-know n-n-nothing about. You sa 3 " I ought to 
1 - 1 -liquidate my b-b-brother’s af-f- fairs, to p-p-prevent 
the f-f-failure. I c-c- can’t be in two p-p-places at 
once, unless I were a little b-b-bird, and — ” 

“ I understand,” cried the notary. “Well, m 3 " old 


EugSnie Crrandet, 149 

friend, you have friends, old friends, capable of devot- 
ing themselves to 3 ^our interests.” 

“All right!” thought Grandet, “make haste and 
come to the point ! ” 

“ Suppose one of them went to Paris and saw 3 "our 
brother Guillaume’s chief creditor and said to him — ” 

“ One m-m- moment,” interrupted the goodman, 
“ said wh-wh-what? Something 1-1- like th- this. Mon- 
sieur Gr-Grandet of Saumur this, Monsieur Grandet of 
Saumur that. He 1-1-loves his b-b-brother, he loves 
his n-nephew. Grandet is a g-g-good uncle ; he 
m-m-means well. He has sold his v-v- vintage. D-d-don’t 
declare a f-f-failure ; c-c-call a meeting ; 1-1-liquidate ; 
and then Gr-Gr-Grandet will see what he c-c-can do. 
B-b-better liquidate than 1-let the 1-1-law st-st-stick its 
n-n-nose in. Hein? isn’t it so?” 

“ Exactly so,” said the president. 

“ B-because, don’t you see. Monsieur de B-Bonfons, 
a man must 1-1-look b-b-before he 1-leaps. If you 
c-c-can’t, 3 "ou c-c-can’t. M-m-must know all about the 
m-m-matter, all the resources and the debts, if you 
d-d-don’t want to be r-r-ruined. Hein ? is n’t it so ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said the president. “I’m of opinion 
that in a few months the debts might be bought up 
for a certain sum, and then paid in full by an agree- 
ment. Ha ! ha I j^ou can coax a dog a long way if you 
show him a bit of lard. If there has been no declara- 


150 


EugSnie G-randet, 


tion of failure, and you hold a lien on the debts, you 
come out of the business as white as the driven snow.” 

“ Sn-n-now,” said Grandet, putting his hand to his 
ear, “ wh-wh-wbat about s-now?” 

“ But,” cried the president, “ do pray attend to what 
I am saying.” • 

“ I am at-t-tending.” 

“ A note is merchandise, — an article of barter which 
rises and falls in price. That is a deduction from 
Jeremy Bentham’s theory about usury. That writer 
has proved that the prejudice which condemned usurers 
to reprobation was mere folly.” 

“ Whew ! ” ejaculated the goodman. 

“ Allowing that money, according to Bentham, is 
an article of merchandise, and that whatever represents 
money is equally merchandise,” resumed the president ; 
“ allowing also that it is notorious that the commercial 
note, bearing this or that signature, is liable to the 
fluctuation of all commercial values, rises or falls in the 
market, is dear at one moment, and is worth nothing 
at another, the courts decide — ah ! how stupid I am, 
I beg your pardon — I am inclined to think you could 
buj" up your brother’s debts for twentj’-flve per cent.” 

“ D-d did you c-c-call him Je-Je- Jeremy B-Ben? ” 

“ Bentham, an Englishman.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s a Jeremy who might save us a lot of lamen- 
tations in business,” said the notary, laughing. 


Euginie Grandet, 


151 


“ Those Englishmen s-sometimes t-t-talk sense,” said 
Grandet. “So, ac c-cording to Ben-Bentham, if my 
b-b-brother’s n*notes are worth n-n-nothing ; if Je-Je 
— I’m c-c-correct, am I not? That seems c-c-clear 
to my m-m-mind — the c-c-creditors would be — No, 
would not be ; I understand.” 

“ Let me explain it all,” said the president. “ Legal- 
ly, if you acquire a title to all the debts of the Maison 
Grandet, 3’our brother or his heirs will owe nothing to 
anj" one. Verj’ good.” 

“ Ver}" g good,” repeated Grandet. 

“In equity, if 3’our brother’s notes are negotiated — 
negotiated, do 3"Ou clearly understand the term? — 
negotiated in the market at a reduction of so much 
per cent in value, and if one of your friends happening 
to be present should buy them in, the creditors having 
sold them of their own free-will without constraint, the 
estate of the late Grandet is honorabl3^ released.” 

“That’s t-true; b-b-business is b-business,” said 
the cooper. “ B-b-but, st-still, 3’ou know, it is d-d-dif- 
ficult. I h-have n-no m-m-mone3’ and n-no t-t-time.” 

“ Yes, but 3"Ou need not undertake it. I am quite 
ready to go to Paris (you may pa3" my expenses, they 
will only be a trifle) . I will see the creditors and talk 
with them and get an extension of time, and everything 
can be arranged if you will add something to the assets 
so as to buy up all title to the debts.” 


152 Eugenie Grandet. 

“We- we ’ll see about th-that. I c-c-can’t and I 
w-w-won’t b-b-biiid myself without — He who c-c-can’t, 
can’t ; don’t you see ? ” 

“ That ’s very true.” 

“I’m all p-p-put ab-b-bout by what j’ou’ve t-t-told 
me. This is the f- first t-t-time in my life I have b-been 
obliged to th-th-think — ” 

“Yes, you are not a lawyer.” 

“I’m onlj' a p-p-poor wine-g-grower, and know 
n-nothing about wh-what you have just t-told me ; I 
m-m-must th-think about it.” 

“ Very good,” said the president, preparing to 
resume his argument. 

“Nephew! ” said the notary, interrupting him in a 
warning tone. 

“Well, what, uncle?” answered the president. 

“ Let Monsieur Grandet explain his own intentions. 
The matter in question is of the first importance. Our 
good friend ought to define his meaning clearly, 
and — ” 

A loud knock, which announced the arrival of the 
des Grassins family, succeeded by their entrance and 
salutations, hindered Cruchot from concluding his sen- 
tence. The notary was glad of the interruption, for 
Grandet was beginning to look suspiciously at him, 
and the wen gave signs of a brewing storm. In the 
first place, the notary did not think it becoming in a 


Eugenie Grrandet, 


153 


president of the Civil courts to go to Paris and manipu- 
late creditors and lend himself to an underhand job 
which clashed with the laws of strict integrity ; more- 
over, never having known old Grandet to express the 
slightest desire to pay anything, no matter what, he 
instinctively feared to see his nephew taking part in 
the affair. He therefore profited by the entrance of the 
des Grassins to take the president by the arm and lead 
him into the embrasure of the window, — 

“You have said enough, nephew; you’ve shown 
enough devotion. Your desire to win the girl blinds 
you. The devil! you mustn’t go at it tooth and nail. 
Let me sail the ship now ; 3^ou can haul on the braces. 
Do you think it right to compromise your dignity as 
a magistrate in such a — ” 

He stopped, for he heard Monsieur des Grassins 
saj’ing to the old cooper as they shook hands, — 

“ Grandet, we have heard of the frightful misfortunes 
which have just befallen 3'Our family, — the failure of 
the house of Guillaume Grandet and the death of your 
brother. We have come to express our grief at these 
sad events.” 

“ There is but one sad event,” said the notary, 
interrupting the banker, — “ the death of Monsieur 
Grandet, junior ; and he would never have killed him- 
self had he thought in time of applying to his brother 
for help. Our old friend, who is honorable to his 


154 


Eugenie Crrandet, 


finger-nails, intends to liquidate the debts of the Maison 
Grandet of Paris. To save him the woriy of legal pro- 
ceedings, my nephew, the president, has just offered to 
go to Paris and negotiate with the creditors for a 
satisfactory settlement.” 

These words, corroborated by Grandet’s attitude as 
he stood silently nursing his chin, astonished the three 
des Grassins, who had been leisurely discussing the old 
man’s avarice as they came along, very nearly accusing 
him of fratricide. 

“Ah! I was sure of it,” cried the banker, looking 
at his wife. “ What did I tell you just now, Madame 
des Grassins? Grandet is honorable to the backbone, 
and would never allow his name to remain under the 
slightest cloud ! Money without honor is a disease. 
There is honor in the provinces ! Right, very right, 
Grandet. I ’m an old soldier, and I can’t disguise 
my thoughts ; I speak roughly. Thunder ! it is sub- 
lime ! ” 

“ Th-then s-s-sublime th- things c-c-cost d-dear,” an- 
swered the goodman, as the banker warmly wrung his 
hand. 

“ But this, my dear Grandet, — if the president will 
excuse me, — is a purely commercial matter, and needs 
a consummate business man. Your agent must be 
some one fully acquainted with the markets, — with dis- 
bursements, rebates, interest calculations, and so forth. 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


155 


I am going to Paris on business of my own, and I can 
take charge of — ” 

“We’ll see about t-t- trying to m-m-manage it 
b-b-between us, under the p-p-p-peculiar c-c-circum- 
stances, b-b-but without b-b-binding m-m-myself to 
anything th-that I c-c-could not db,” said Grandet, stut- 
tering ; “ because, you see, monsieur le president natu- 
rally expects me to pay the expenses of his journe3^” 

The goodman did not stammer over the last words. 

“Eh!” cried Madame des Grassins, “why it is a 
jpleasure to go to Paris. I would wilhngly pay to go 
myself.” 

She made a sign to her husband, as if to encourage 
him in cutting the enemy out of the commission, coute 
que coute ; then she glanced ironically at the two Cru- 
chots, who looked chap-fallen. Grandet seized the 
banker by a button and drew him into a corner of the 
room. 

“ I have a great deal more confidence in you than in 
the president,” he said; “besides, I’ve other fish to 
frj’,” he added, wriggling his wen. “I want to buy 
a few thousand francs in the Funds while they are at 
eighty. They fall, I ’m told, at the end of each month. 
You know all about these things, don’t 3"Ou? ” 

“ Bless me ! then, am I to invest enough to give you 
a few thousand francs a year ? ” 

“That’s not much to begin with. Hush! I don’t 


156 


EugSnie Grandet, 


want any one to know I am going to pla}^ that game. 
You can make the investment by the end of the month. 
Say nothing to the Cruchots ; that ’ll annoy them. If 
you are really going to Paris, we will see if there is 
anything to be done for my poor nephew.” 

“Well, it’s all settled. I’ll start to-morrow by the 
mail-post,” said des Grassins aloud, “ and I will come 
and take your last directions at — what hour will suit 
you?” 

“ Five o’clock, just before dinner,” said Grandet, 
rubbing his hands. 

The two parties stayed on for a short time. Des 
Grassins said, after a pause, striking Grandet on the 
shoulder, — 

“ It is a good thing to have a relation like him.” 

“Yes, yes; without making a show,” said Grandet, 
“I am a g-good relation. I loved my brother, and I 
will prove it, unless it c-c-costs — ” 

“We must leave j^ou, Grandet,” said the banker, 
interrupting him fortunately before he got to the end 
of his sentence. “ If I hurry my departure, I must 
attend to some matters at once.” 

“Verj" good, very good! I myself — in c-conse- 
quence of what I t-told you — I must retire to my own 
room and ‘ d-d-deliberate,’ as President Cruchot saj^s.” 

“Plague take him! I am no longer Monsieur de 
Bonfons,” thought the magisti’ate ruefully, his face 


Eugenie Grandet. 157 

assuming the expression of a judge bored by an 
argument. 

The heads of the two factions walked oif together. 
Neither gave any further thought to the treacheiy Gran- 
det had been guilty of in the morning against the whole 
wine-growing community ; each tried to fathom what 
the other was thinking about the real intentions of 
the wily old man in this new affair, but in vain. 

“Will you go with us to Madame Dorsonval’s?” 
said des Grassins to the notary. 

“We will go there later,” answered the president. 
“ I have promised to sa^^ good-evening to Mademoiselle 
de Gribeaucourt, and we will go there first, if my uncle 
is willing.” 

“Farewell for the present!” said Madame des 
Grassins. 

When the Cruchots were a few steps off, Adolphe re- 
marked to his father, — 

‘ ‘ Are not they fuming, hein ? ” 

“Hold your tongue, my son!” said his mother; 
“ they might hear you. Besides, what you say is not in 
good taste, — law-school language.” 

“Well, uncle,” cried the president when he saw the 
des Grassins disappearing, “ I began by being de Bon- 
fons, and I have ended as nothing but Cruchot.” 

“I saw that that annoyed you ; but the wind has 
set fair for the des Grassins. What a fool j^ou are, 


158 


EugSnie G-randeL 


with all your cleverness ! Let them sail off on Gran- 
det’s ‘ We will see about it,’ and keep yourself quiet, 
young man. Eugenie will none the less be your wdfe.” 

In a few moments the news of Grandet’s magnani- 
mous resolve was disseminated in three houses at the 
same moment, and the whole town began to talk of his 
fraternal devotion. Every one forgave Grandet for the 
sale made in defiance of the good faith pledged to the 
community ; the}^ admired his sense of honor, and began 
to laud a generosity of which they had never thought 
him capable. It is part of the French nature to grow 
enthusiastic, or angry, or feiwent about some meteor 
of the moment. Can it be that collective beings, na- 
tionalities, peoples, are devoid of memory? 

When Pere Grandet had shut the door he called 
Nanon. 

“ Don’t let the dog loose, and don’t go to bed ; we have 
work to do together. At eleven o’clock Cornoiller will 
be at the door with the chariot from Froidfond. Listen 
for him and prevent his knocking ; tell him to come 
in softly. Police regulations don’t allow nocturnal 
racket. Besides, the whole neighborhood need not 
know that I am starting on a journey.” 

So saying, Grandet returned to his private room, 
where Nanon heard him moving about, rummaging, and 
walking to and fro, though with much precaution, for 
he evidently did not wish to wake his wife and daugh- 


Eug6nie Qrandet, 159 

ter, and above all not to rouse the attention of his 
nephew, whom he had begun to anathematize when he 
saw a thread of light under his door. About the mid- 
dle of the night Eugenie, intent on her cousin, fancied 
she heard a cry like that of a dying person. It must be 
Charles, she thought ; he was so pale, so full of de- 
spair when she had seen him last, — could he have 
killed himself? She wrapped herself quickly in a loose 
garment, — a sort of pelisse with a hood, — and was about 
to leave the room when a bright light coming through 
the chinks of her door made her think of fire. But she 
recovered herself as she heard Nanon’s heavy steps and 
gruff voice mingling with the snorting of several horses. 

“Can my father be carrying off my cousin?” she 
said to herself, opening her door with great precaution 
lest it should creak, and yet enough to let her see into 
the corridor. 

Suddenly" her eye encountered that of her father ; and 
his glance, vague and unnoticing as it was, terrified 
her. The goodman and Nanon were yoked together 
by a stout stick, each end of which rested on their 
shoulders ; a stout rope was passed over it, on which 
was slung a small barrel or keg like those Pere Grandet 
still made in his bakehouse as an amusement for his 
leisure hours. 

“ Holy Virgin, how heavy it is ! ” said the voice of 
Nanon. 


160 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“ What a pity that it is only copper sous ! ” answered 
Grandet. “Take care you don’t knock over the 
candlestick.” 

The scene was lighted by a single candle placed 
between two rails of the staircase. 

“ Cornoiller,” said Grandet to his in partihus^ 

“ have you brought your pistols? ” 

“No, monsieur. Mercy! what’s there to fear for 
your copper sous?” 

“ Oh ! nothing,” said Pere Grandet. 

“ Besides, we shall go fast,” added the man ; “ your 
farmers have picked out their best horses.” 

“Very good. You did not tell them where I was 
going?” 

“ I did n’t know where.” 

“ Very good. Is the carriage strong?” 

“Strong? hear to that, now! Wh}^ it can carry 
three thousand weight. How much does that old keg 
weigh?” 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Nanon. “I ought to 
know ! There ’s pretty nigh eighteen hundred — ” 

“Will you hold j^our tongue, Nanon! You are to 
tell my wife I have gone into the country. I shall be 
back to dinner. Drive fast, Cornoiller; I must get 
to Angers before nine o’clock.” 

The carriage drove off. Nanon bolted the great 
door, let loose the dog, and went to bed with a bruised 


EugSnie Grandet, 


161 


shoulder, no one in the neighborhood suspecting either 
the departure of Grandet or the object of his journey. 
The precautions of the old miser and his reticence were 
never relaxed. No one had ever seen a penny in that 
house, filled as it was with gold. Hearing in the morn- 
ing, through the gossip of the port, that exchange on 
gold had doubled in price in consequence of certain 
military preparations undertaken at Nantes, and that 
speculators had arrived at Angers to buy coin, the 
old wine-grower, by the simple process of borrowing 
horses from his farmers, seized the chance of selling 
his gold and of bringing back in the form of treasury 
notes the sum he intended to put into the Funds, hav- 
ing swelled it considerably by the exchange. 


162 


Eugenie Qrandet. 


VIII. 

“ My father has gone,” thought liugenie, who heard 
all that took place from the head of the stairs. Si- 
lence was restored in the house, and the distant rumb- 
hng of the carriage, ceasing by degrees, no longer 
echoed through the sleeping town. At this moment 
Eugenie heard in her heart, before the sound caught 
her ears, a cry which pierced the partitions and came 
from her cousin’s chamber. A line of light, thin as the 
blade of a sabre, shone through a chink in the door 
and fell horizontally on the balusters of the rotten 
staircase. 

“ He suffers ! ” she said, springing up two stairs. A 
second moan brought her to the landing near his room. 
The door was ajar, she pushed it open. Charles was 
sleeping ; his head hung over the side of the old arm- 
chair, and his hand, from which the pen had fallen, 
nearly touched the floor. The oppressed breathing 
caused by the strained posture suddenly frightened 
Eugenie, who entered the room hastily. 

“ He must be very tired,” she said to herself, glanc- 
ing at a dozen letters lying sealed upon the table. 


Euginie Grandet, 


163 


She read their addresses: “To Messrs. Farry, Breil- 
mann, & Co., carriage-makers;” “To Monsieur Buis- 
son, tailor,” etc. 

“He has been settling all his affairs, so as to leave 
France at once,” she thought. Her eyes fell upon 
two open letters. The words, “My dear Annette,” at 
the head of one of them, blinded her for a moment. 
Her heart beat fast, her feet were nailed to the 
floor. 

“His dear Annette! He loves I he is loved! No 
hope ! What does he say to her ? ” 

^ These thoughts rushed through her head and heart, 
jhe saw the words everywhere, even on the bricks of 
the floor, in letters of Are. 

“ Resign him already? No, no ! I will not read the 
letter. I ought to go away — What if I do read it ? ” 

She looked at Charles, then she gently took his head 
and placed it against the back of the chair ; he let her 
do so, like a child which, though asleep, knows its 
mother’s touch and receives, without awaking, her 
kisses and watchful care. Like a mother Eugenie raised 
the drooping hand, and like a mother she gently kissed 
the chestnut hair — “Dear Annette!” a demon 
shrieked the words into her ear. 

“ I am doing wrong ; but I must read it, that let- 
ter,” she said. She turned away her head, for her 
noble sense of honor reproached her. For the first 


164 


EugSnie GrandeL 


time in her life good and evil struggled together in her 
heart. Up to that moment she had never had to blush 
for any action. Passion and curiosit}’ triumphed. As 
she read each sentence her heart swelled more and 
more, and the keen glow which filled her being as she 
did so, only made the joj's of first love still more 
precious. 

My dear Annette, — Nothing could ever have sepa- 
rated us but the great misfortune which has now over- 
whelmed me, and which no human foresight could have 
prevented. My father has killed himself ; his fortune and 
mine are irretrievably lost. I am orphaned at an age when, 
through the nature of my education, I am still a child; and 
yet I must lift myself as a man out of the abyss into which I 
am plunged. I have just spent half the night in facing my 
position. If I wish to leave France an honest man, — and 
there is no doubt of that, — I have not a hundred francs of my 
own with which to try my fate in the Indies or in America. 
Yes, my poor Anna, I must seek my fortune in those deadly 
climates. Under those skies, they tell me, I am sure to make 
it. As for remaining in Paris, I cannot do so. Neither my 
nature nor my face are made to bear the affronts, the neg- 
lect, the disdain shown to a ruined man, the son of a bank- 
rupt! Good God! think of owing two millions! I should 
be killed in a duel the first week ; therefore I shall not return 
there. Your love — the most tender and devoted love which 
ever ennobled the heart of man — cannot draw me back. 
Alas! my beloved, I have no money with which to go to you, 
to give and receive a last kiss from which I might derive , 
some strength for my forlorn enterprise. 


Eugenie G-randet. 165 

“Poor Charles! I did well to read the letter. I 
have gold ; I will give it to him,” thought Eugenie. 

She wiped her eyes, and went on reading. 

I have never thought of the miseries of poverty. If I have 
the hundred louis required for the mere costs of the journey, 
I have not a sou for an outfit. But no, I have not the hun- 
dred louis, not even one louis. I don’t know that anything 
will be left after I have paid my debts in Paris. If I have 
nothing, I shall go quietly to Nantes and ship as a common 
sailor; and I will begin in the new world like other men who 
have started young without a sou and brought back the wealth 
of the Indies. During this long day I have faced my future 
coolly. It seems more horrible for me than for another, be- 
cause I have been so petted by a mother who adored me, so 
indulged by the kindest of fathers, so blessed by meeting, on 
my entrance into life, with the love of an Anna! The flowers 
of life are all I have ever known. Such happiness could not 
last. Nevertheless, my dear Annette, I feel more courage 
than a careless young man is supposed to feel, — above 
all a young man used to the caressing ways of the dearest 
woman in all Paris, cradled in family joys, on whom all 
things smiled in his home, whose wishes were a law to his 
father — oh, my father! Annette, he is dead! 

WeU, I have thought over my position, and yours as well. 
I have grown old in twenty-four hours. Dear Anna, if in 
order to keep me with you in Paris you were to sacrifice 
your luxury, your dress, your opera-box, we should even 
then not have enough for the expenses of my extravagant 
ways of living. Besides, I would never accept such sacri- 
fices. No, we must part now and forever — 


166 Eugenie Grandet, 

“He gives her up! Blessed Virgin! What happi- 
ness ! ” 

Eugenie quivered with joy. Charles made a move 
ment, and a chill of terror ran through her. Fortunately, 
he did not wake, and she resumed her reading. 

When shall I return? I do not know. The climate of 
the West Indies ages a European, so they say; especially a 
European who works hard. Let us think what may happen 
ten years hence. In ten years your daughter will be eighteen ; 
she will be your companion, your spy. To you society will 
be cruel, and your daughter perhaps more cruel still. We 
have seen cases of the harsh social judgment and ingratitude 
of daughters; let us take warning by them. Keep in the 
depths of your soul, as I shall in mine, the memory of four 
years of happiness, and be faithful, if you can, to the mem- 
ory of your poor friend. I cannot exact such faithfulness, 
because, do you see, dear Annette, I must conform to the 
exigencies of my new life ; I must take a commonplace view 
of them and do the best I can. Therefore I must think of 
marriage, which becomes one of the necessities of my future 
existence ; and I will admit to you that I have found, here in 
Saumur, in my uncle’s house, a cousin whose face, manners, 
mind, and heart would please you, and who, besides, seems 
to me — 

“ He must have been very weary to have ceased 
writing to her,” thought Eugenie, as she gazed at the 
letter which stopped abruptly in the middle of the last 
sentence. 


Eugenie Cirandet. 


167 


Already she defended him. How was it possible that 
an innocent girl should perceive the cold-heartedness 
evinced by this letter? To young girls religiously 
brought up, whose minds are ignorant and pure, all is 
love from the moment they set their feet within the 
enchanted regions of that passion. They walk there 
bathed in a celestial light shed from their own souls, 
which reflects its rays upon their lover ; they color all 
with the flame of their own emotion and attribute to him 
their highest thoughts. '"A woman’s errors come almost 
always from her belief in good or her confidence in 
truth. .Tn Eugenie’s simple heart the words, “ My dear 
Annette, my loved one,” echoed like the sweetest lan- 
guage of love ; they caressed her soul as, in childhood, 
the divine notes of the Yenite adoremus^ repeated 
by the organ, caressed her ear. Moreover, the tears 
which still lingered on the j'Oung man’s lashes gave 
signs of that nobility of heart by which young girls are 
rightl}^ won. How could she know that Charles, 
though he loved his father and mourned him truly, was 
moved far more by paternal goodness than by the 
goodness of his own heart? Monsieur and Madame 
Guillaume Grandet, by gratifying every fancy of their 
son, and lavishing upon him the pleasures of a large 
fortune, had kept him from making the horrible calcula- 
tions of which so many sons in Paris become more or 
less guilty when, face to face with the enjoyments of the 


168 


EugSnie Grandet, 


world, they form desires and conceive schemes which 
they see with bitterness must be put off or laid aside 
during the lifetime of their parents. The liberality of 
the father in this instance had shed into the heart of 
the son a real love, in which there was no afterthought 
of self-interest. 

Nevertheless, Charles was a true child of Paris, 
taught by the customs of society and by Annette her- 
self to calculate everything ; already an old man under 
the mask of j^outh. He had gone through the frightful 
education of social life, of that world where in one even- 
ing more crimes are committed in thought and speech 
than justice ever punishes at the assizes ; where jests 
and clever sayings assassinate the noblest ideas ; where 
no one is counted strong unless his mind sees clear: 
and to see clear in that world is to believe in nothing, 
neither in feelings, nor in men, nor even in events, — 
for events are falsified. There, to “see clear” we 
must weigh a friend’s purse daily, learn how to keep 
ourselves adroitly on the top of the wave, cautiously 
admire nothing, neither works of art nor glorious ac- 
tions, and remember that self-interest is the mainspring 
of all things here below. . After committing many fol- 
lies, the great lady — the beautiful Annette — com- 
pelled Charles to think seriously; with her perfumed 
hand among his curls, she talked to him of his future 
position ; as she rearranged his locks, she taught him 


EugSnie Grandet. 


169 


lessons of worldly prudence ; she made him effeminate 
and materialized him, — a double corruption, but a deli- 
cate and elegant corruption, in the best taste. 

“ You are very foolish, Charles,” she would say to 
him. “ I shall have a great deal of trouble in teaching 
you to understand the world. You behaved extremely 
ill to Monsieur des Lupeaulx. I know very well he is 
not an honorable man ; but wait till he is no longer in 
power, then you may despise him as much as you like. 
Do you know what Madame Campan used to tell us ? 
— ‘ M}^ dears, as long as a man is a minister, adore 
him ; when he falls, help to drag him into the gutter. 
Powerful, he is a sort of god ; fallen, he is lower than 
Marat in the sewer, because he is living, and Marat 
is dead. Life is a series of combinations, and you must 
study them and understand them if you want to keep 
yourselves always in good position.’ ” 

Charles was too much a man of the world, his par- 
ents had made him too happy, he had received too 
much adulation in society, to be possessed of noble 
sentiments. The grain of gold dropped by his mother 
into his heart was beaten thin in the smithy of Parisian 
society ; he had spread it superficially, and it was worn 
away* by the friction of life. Charles was only twenty- 
one years old. At that age the freshness of youth 
seems inseparable from candor and sincerity of soul. 
The voice, the glance, the face itself, seem in harmony 


170 


EugSnie Grrandet, 


with the feelings ; and thus it happens that the sternest 
judge, the most sceptical law3'er, the least complying 
of usurers, alwa^’s hesitate to admit decrepitude of heart 
or the corruption of worldly* calculation while the eyes 
are stiU bathed in purity" and no wrinkles seam the 
brow. Charles, so far, had had no occasion to apply 
the maxims of Parisian moralitj" ; up to this time he 
was still endowed with the beaut}" of inexperience. 
And 3"et, unknown to himself, he had been inoculated 
with selfishness. The germs of Parisian political econ- 
omy, latent in his heart, would assuredly burst forth, 
sooner or later, whenever the careless spectator became 
an actor in the drama of real life. 

— ^'^barl}^"^ young girls succumb to the tender prom- 
ises such an outward appearance seems to offer : even if 
Eugenie had been as prudent and observing as provincial 
girls are often found to be, she was not likely to dis- 
trust her cousin when his manners, words, and actions 
were still in unison with the aspirations of a ^"outhful 
heart. A mere chance — a fatal chance — threw in her 
way the last effusions of real feehng which stirred the 
young man’s soul ; she heard as it were the last breath- 
ings of his conscience. She laid down the letter — to 
her so full of love — and began smilingly to watch 
her sleeping cousin ; the fresh illusions of life were 
still, for her at least, upon his face ; she vowed to her- 
self to love him alwaj^s. Then she cast her ej-es on the 


Eugenie G-randet. 


171 


other letter, without attaching much importance to this 
second indiscretion ; and though she read it, it was only 
to obtain new proofs of the noble qualities which, like 
all women, she attributed to the man her heart had 
chosen. 

My dear Alphonse, — "When you receive this letter I 
shall be without friends ; but let me assure you that while I 
doubt the friendship of the world, I have never doubted 
yours. I beg you therefore to settle all my affairs, and I 
trust to you to get as much as you can out of my possessions. 
By this time you know my situation. I have nothing left, 
and I intend to go at once to the Indies. I have just written 
to all the people to whom I think I owe money, and you will 
find inclosed a list of their names, as correct as I can make 
it from memory. My books, my furniture, my pictures, my 
horses, etc., ought, I think, to pay my debts. I do not wish 
to keep anything, except, perhaps, a few baubles which 
might serve as the beginning of an outfit for my enterprise. 
My dear Alphonse, I will send you a proper power of attor- 
ney under which you can make these sales. Send me all my 
weapons. Keep Briton for yourself ; nobody would pay the 
value of that noble beast, and I would rather give him to 
you — like a mourning-ring bequeathed by a dying man to 
his executor. Parry, Breilmann, & Co. built me a very 
comfortable travelling-carriage, which they have not yet 
delivered ; persuade them to keep it and not ask for any pay- 
ment on it. If they refuse, do what you can in the matter, 
and avoid everything that might seem dishonorable in me 
under my present circumstances. I owe the British Islander 
six louis, which I lost at cards ; don’t fail to pay him — 



172 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“ Dear cousin ! ” whispered Eugenie, throwing down 
the letter and running softly back to her room, carrying 
one of the lighted candles. A thrill of pleasure passed 
over her as she opened the drawer of an old oak cabi- 
net, a fine specimen of the period called the Renaissance, 
on which could still be seen, partly effaced, the famous 
royal salamander. She took from the drawer a large 
purse of red velvet with gold tassels, edged with a 
tarnished fringe of gold wire, — a relic inherited from 
her grandmother. She weighed it proudly in her hand, 
and began with delight to count over the forgotten 
items of her little hoard. Jirst she took out twenty 
portugaisesy still new, struck in the reign of John V., 
1725, worth by exchange, as her father told her, five 
lishonnines^ or a hundred and sixtj^-eight francs, sixty- 
four centimes each ; their conventional value, however, 
was a hundred and eighty francs apiece, on account 
of the rarity and beauty of the coins, which shone like 
little suns. Item, five genovines^ or five hundred-franc 
pieces of Genoa ; another very rare coin worth eighty- 
seven francs on exchange, but a hundred francs to col- 
lectors. These had formerly belonged to old Monsieur 
de la Bertelliere. Item, three gold quadruples^ Span- 
ish, of Philip V., struck in 1729, given to her one by 
one by Madame Gentillet, who never failed to say, 
using the same words, when she made the gift, “ This 
dear little canary, this little yellow-boy, is worth ninety- 


Eugenie Grandet. 


173 


eight fraucs ! Keep it, my pretty one, it will be the 
flower of your treasure.” Item (that which her father 
valued most of all, the gold of these coins being twenty- 
three carats and a fraction) , a hundred Dutch ducats, 
made in the year 1756, and worth thirteen francs 
apiece. Item, a great curiosity, a species of medal 
precious to the soul of misers, — three rupees with the 
sign of the Scales, and five rupees with the sign of the 
Virgin, all in pure gold of twenty-four carats j the mag- 
nificent money of the Great Mogul, each of which was 
worth by mere weight thirty-seven francs, forty cen- 
times, but at least fifty francs to those connoisseurs who 
love to handle gold. Item, the napoleon of forty francs 
received the day before, which she had forgotten to put 
away in the velvet purse. This treasure was all in 
virgin coins, true works of art, which Grandet from 
time to time inquired after and asked to see, pointing 
out to his daughter their intrinsic merits, — such as the 
beauty of the milled edge, the clearness of the flat 
surface, the richness of the lettering, whose angles were 
not yet rubbed ofl*. 

Eugenie gave no thought to these rarities, nor to 
her father’s mania for them, nor to the danger she in- 
curred in depriving herself of a treasure so dear to 
him ; no, she thought only of her cousin, and soon 
made out, after a few mistakes of calculation, that she 
possessed about five thousand eight hundred francs in 


174 


EugSnie Grandet, 


actual value, which might be sold for their additional 
value to collectors for nearly six thousand. She looked 
at her wealth and clapped her hands like a happy 
child forced to spend its overflowing joy in artless 
movements of the bod3^ Father and daughter had 
each counted up their fortune this night, — he, to sell 
his gold ; Eugenie to fling hers into the ocean of affec- 
tion. She put the pieces back into the old purse, took 
it in her hand, and ran upstairs without hesitation. 
The secret misery of her cousin made her forget the 
hour and conventional propriety ; she was strong in her 
conscience, in her devotion, in her happiness. 

As she stood upon the threshold of the door, holding 
the candle in one hand and the purse in the other, 
Charles woke, caught sight of her, and remained 
speechless with surprise. Eugenie came forward, put 
the candle on the table, and said in a quivering voice : 

“ My cousin, I must beg your pardon for a wrong I 
have done you ; but God will pardon me — if you — 
will help me to wipe it out.” 

“ What is it?” asked Charles, rubbing his e^^es. 

“ I have read those letters.” 

Charles colored. 

“ How did it happen?” she continued ; “ how came 
I here ? Truly, I do not know. I am tempted not to 
regret too much that I have read them; they have 
made me know your heart, your soul, and — ” 


MugSnie Grrandet, 


176 


“ And what? ” asked Charles. 

“ Your plans, your need of a sum — ” 

“ My dear cousin — ” 

“ Hush, hush ! my cousin, not so loud ; we must not 
wake others. See,” she said, opening her purse, “ here 
are the savings of a poor girl who wants nothing. 
Charles, accept them ! This morning I was ignorant 
of the value of money ; you have taught it to me. It is 
but a means, after all. A cousin is almost a brother ; 
you can surely borrow the purse of 3"Our sister.” 

Eugenie, as much a woman as a young girl, never 
dreamed of refusal ; but her cousin remained silent. 

“Oh! you will not refuse?” cried Eugenie, the 
beatings of whose heart could be heard in the deep 
silence. 

Her cousin’s hesitation mortified her; but the sore 
need of his position came clearer still to her mind, and 
she knelt down. 

“ I will never rise till you have taken that gold ! ” 
she said. “ M3r cousin, I implore j^ou, answer me I 
let me know if you respect me, if you are generous, 
if — ” 

As he heard this cry of noble distress the j^oung 
man’s tears fell upon his cousin’s hands, which he had 
caught in his own to keep her from kneeling. As the 
warm tears touched her, Eugenie sprang to the purse 
and poured its contents upon the table. 


176 


EugSnie Crrandet, 


“Ah! yes, yes, you consent?” she said, weeping 
with joy. “ Fear nothing, my cousin, j^ou will be rich. 
This gold will bring j^ou happiness ; some da,y 3’ou shall 
bring it back to me, — are we not partners ? I will 
obey all conditions. But you should not attach such 
value to the gift.” 

Charles was at last able to express his feelings. 

“Yes, Eugenie; my soul would be small indeed if 
I did not accept. And j^et, — gift for gift, confidence 
for confidence.” 

“ What do 3-0U mean? ” she said, frightened. 

“Listen, dear cousin; I have here — ” He inter- 
rupted himself to point out a square box covered with 
an outer case of leather which was on the drawers. 
“There,” he continued, “is something as precious to 
me as life itself. This box was a present from my 
mother. All day I have been thinking that if she could 
rise from her grave, she would herself sell the gold 
which her love for me lavished on this dressing-case ; 
but were I to do so, the act would seem to me a sacri- 
lege.” Eugenie pressed his hand as she heard these last 
words. “No,” he added, after a slight pause, during 
which a liquid glance of tenderness passed between 
them, “ no, I will neither sell it nor risk its safety on 
my journey’. Dear Eugenie, j^ou shall be its guardian. 
Never did friend commit anything more sacred to 
another. Let me show it to 3^ou.” ^ 


EugSnie Grandet, 


177 


He went to the box, took it from its outer coverings, 
opened it, and showed his delighted cousin a dressing- 
case where the rich workmanship gave to the gold 
ornaments a value far above their weight. 

“ What you admire there is nothing,” he said, push- 
ing a secret spring which opened a hidden drawer. 
“ Here is something which to me is worth the whole 
world.” He drew out two portraits, masterpieces of 
Madame Mirbel, richly set with pearls. 

“Oh, how beautiful! Is it the lady to whom you 
wrote that — ” 

“No,” he said, smiling; “this is my mother, and 
here is my father, your aunt and uncle. Eugenie, I 
beg you on my knees, keep my treasure safely. If I 
die and your little fortune is lost, this gold and these 
pearls will repay you. To you alone could I leave 
these portraits ; you are worthy to keep them. But 
destroy them at last, so that they may pass into no other 
hands.” Eugenie was silent. “Ah, yes, say yes! 
You consent?” he added with’ winning grace. 

Hearing the very words she had just used io her 
cousin now addressed to herself, she turned upon him 
a look of love, her first look of loving womanhood, — 
a glance in which there is nearly as much of co- 
quetry as of inmost depth. He took her hand and 
kissed it. 

“ Angel of purity ! between us two money is nothing, 
12 


178 Eugenie G-randet, 

never can be anything. Feeling, sentiment, must be 
all henceforth.” 

“You are like your mother, — was her voice as soft 
as yours ? ” 

“ Oh ! much softer — ” 

“Yes, for you,” she said, dropping her ej^elids. 
“ Come, Charles, go to bed ; I wish it : you must be 
tired. Good-night.” She gently disengaged her hand 
from those of her cousin, who followed her to her room, 
lighting the way. When they were both upon the 
threshold, — 

“ Ah ! ” he said, “ why am I ruined ? ” 

“What matter? — my father is rich; I think so,” 
she answered. 

“Poor child!” said Charles, making a step into her 
room and leaning his back against the wall, “ if that 
were so, he would never have let my father die ; he 
would not let you live in this poor way ; he would live 
otherwise himself.” 

“ But he owns Froidfond.” 

“ What is Froidfond worth ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; but he has Noyers.” 

“ Nothing but a poor farm ! ” 

“ He has vineyards and fields.” 

“ Mere nothing,” said Charles disdainfully. “ If 
your father had only twenty-four thousand francs a 
year do you suppose you would live in this cold, bar- 


EugSnie G-randet. 


179 


ren room ? ” he added, making a step in advance. ‘ ‘ Ah ! 
there you will keep my treasures,” he said, glancing at 
the old cabinet, as if to hide his thoughts. 

“ Go and sleep,” she said, hindering his entrance 
into the disordered room. 

Charles stepped back, and they bid each other good- 
night with a mutual smile. 

Both fell asleep in the same dream ; and from that 
moment the youth began to wear roses with his mourn- 
ing. The next day, before breakfast, Madame Gran- 
det found her daughter in the garden in company with 
Charles. The young man was still sad, as became a 
poor fellow who, plunged in misfortune, measures the 
depths of the abyss into which he has fallen, and sees 
the terrible burden of his whole future life. 

“ My father will not be home till dinner-time,” said 
Eugenie, perceiving the anxious look on her mother’s 
face. 

It was easy to trace in the face and manners of the 
young girl and in the singular sweetness of her voice 
a unison of thought between her and her cousin. Their 
souls had espoused each other, perhaps before they even 
felt the force of the feelings which bound them together. 
Charles spent the morning in the hall, and his sadness 
was respected. Each of the three women had occupa- 
tions of her own. Grandet had left all his affairs unat- 
tended to, and a number of persons came on business, — 


180 


EugSnie GrandeU 


the plumber, the mason, the slater, the carpenter, the 
diggers, the dressers, the farmers ; some to drive a bar- 
gain about repairs, others to pay their rent or to be paid 
themselves for services. Madame Grandet and Euge- 
nie were obliged to go and come and listen to the inter- 
minable talk of all these workmen and country folk. 
Nanon put away in her kitchen the produce which they 
brought as tribute. She always waited for her master’s 
orders before she knew what portion was to be used in 
the house and what was to be sold in the market. It 
was the goodman’s custom, like that of a great many 
country gentlemen, to drink his bad wine and eat his 
spoiled fruit. 

Towards five in the afternoon Grandet returned from 
Angers, having made fourteen thousand francs by the 
exchange on his gold, bringing home in his wallet 
good treasury-notes which bore interest until the day 
he should invest them in the Funds. He had left Cor- 
noiller at Angers to look after the horses, which were 
wellnigh foundered, with orders to bring them home 
slowly after they were rested. 

“ I have got back from Angers, wife,” he said ; “I 
am hungry.” 

Nanon called out to him from the kitchen : “ Have n’t 
you eaten anything since yesterday ? ” 

“ Nothing,” answered the old man. 

Nanon brought in the soup. Des Grassins came to 


EugSnie GrandeU 


181 


take his client’s orders just as the family sat down to 
dinner. Grandet had not even observed his nephew. 

“Go on eating, Grandet,” said the banker; “we 
can talk. Do you know what gold is worth in Angers ? 
They have come from Nantes after it? I shall send 
some of ours.” 

“Don’t send any,” said Grandet; “they have got 
enough. We are such old friends, I ought to save you 
from such a loss of time.” 

“ But gold is worth thuleen francs fifty centimes.” 

“ Say was worth — ” 

“ Where the devil have they got any? ” 

“ I went to Angers last night,” answered Grandet in 
a low voice. 

The banker shook with surprise. Then a whispered 
conversation began between the two, during which 
Grandet and des Grassins frequently looked at Charles. 
Presentl}’’ des Grassins gave a start of astonishment; 
probably Grandet was then instructing him to invest 
the sum which was to give him a hundred thousand 
francs a year in the Funds. 

“ Monsieur Grandet,” said the banker to Charles, “ I 
am starting for Paris ; if you have any commissions — ” 

“ None, monsieur, I thank you,” answered Charles. 

“ Thank him better than that, nephew. Monsieur 
is going to settle the affairs of the house of Guillaume 
Grandet.” 


182 


Eug4nie Grandet, 


“ Is there any hope? ” said Charles eagerly. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed his uncle, with well-acted pride, 
“ are you not my nephew? Your honor is ours. Is not 
your name Grandet? ” 

Charles rose, seized Pere Grandet, kissed him, turned 
pale, and left the room. Eugenie looked at her father 
with admiration. 

“Well, good-by, des Grassins ; it is all in your 
hands. Decoy those people as best you can ; lead ’em 
by the nose.” 

The two diplomatists shook hands. The old cooper 
accompanied the banker to the front door. Then, after 
closing it, he came back and plunged into his armchair, 
saying to Nanon, — 

“ Get me some black-currant ratafia.” 

Too excited, however, to remain long in one place, 
he got up, looked at the portrait of Monsieur de la 
BerteUiere, and began to sing, doing what Nanon called 
his dancing-steps, — 

“ Dans les gardes fran^aises 
J’avais un bon papa.” 

Nanon, Madame Grandet, and Eugenie looked at 
each other in silence. The hilarity of the master al- 
ways frightened them when it reached its climax. The 
evening was soon over. Pere Grandet chose to go to 
bed early, and when he went to bed, ever^^body else was 


EugSnie Grandet. 


183 


expected to go too ; like as when Augustus drank, Po- 
land was drunk. On this occasion Nanon, Charles, and 
Eugenie were not less tired than the master. As for 
Madame Grandet, she slept, ate, drank, and walked 
according to the will of her husband. However, dur- 
ing the two hours consecrated to digestion, the cooper, 
more facetious than he had ever been in his life, uttered 
a number of his own particular apothegms, — a single 
one of which will give the measure of his mind. When 
he had drunk his ratafia, he looked at his glass and 
said, — 

“ You have no sooner put your lips to a glass than 
it is empty ! Such is life. You can’t have and hold. 
Gold won’t circulate and stay in your purse. If it were 
not for that, life would be too fine.” 

He was jovial and benevolent. When Nanon came 
with her spinning-wheel, “ You must be tired,” he 
said ; “ put away your hemp.” 

“ Ah, bah ! then I shall get sleepy,” she answered. 

“ Poor Nanon ! Will j^ou have some ratafia? ” 

“ I won’t refuse a good ofifer; madame makes it a 
deal better than the apothecaries. What they sell 
is all drugs.” 

“ They put too much sugar,” said the master ; “ you 
can’t taste anything else.” 


184 


EugSnie Cirandet, 


IX. 

The following day the family, meeting at eight o’clock 
for the early breakfast, made a picture of genuine do- 
mestic intimacy. Grief had drawn Madame Grandet, 
Eugenie, and Charles en rapport ; even Nanon sym- 
pathized, without knowing why. The four now made 
one family. As to the old man, his satisfied avarice 
and the certainty of soon getting rid of the dandy 
without ha^dng to pay more than his journey to Nantes, 
made him nearly indifferent to his presence in the house. 
He left the two children, as he called Charles and Eu- 
genie, free to conduct themselves as they pleased, under 
the eye of Madame Grandet, in whom he had implicit 
confidence as to all that concerned public and religious 
morality. He busied himself in straightening the boun- 
daries of his fields and ditches along the high-road, in 
his poplar-plantations beside the Loire, in the winter 
work of his vineyards, and at Froidfond. All these 
things occupied his whole time. 

For Eugenie the springtime of love had come. 
Since the scene at night when she gave her little 
treasure to her cousin, her heart had followed the 


Euginie Grandet. 


185 


treasure. Confederates in the same secret, they looked 
at each other with a mutual intelligence which sank to 
the depth of their consciousness, giving a closer com- 
munion, a more intimate relation to their feelings, and 
putting them, so to speak, bej^ond the pale of ordinary 
life. Did not their near relationship warrant the gen- 
tleness in their tones, the tenderness in their glances? 
Eugenie took delight in lulling her cousin’s pain with 
the pretty childish jo3'S of a new-born love. Are there 
no sweet similitudes between the birth of love and the 
birth of life? Do we not rock the babe with gentle 
songs and softest glances ? Do we not tell it marvel- 
lous tales of the golden future ? Hope herself, does she 
not spread her radiant wings above its head? Does 
it not shed, with infant fickleness, its tears of soitow 
and its tears of joj"? Does it not fret for trifies, cr}^ 
for the pretty pebbles with which to build its shifting 
palaces, for the fiowers forgotten as soon as plucked? 
Is it not eager to grasp the coming time, to spring for- 
ward into life? Love is our second transformation* 
Childhood and love were one and the same thing to 
Eugenie and to Charles ; it was a first passion, with all 
its child-like play, — the more caressing to their hearts 
because the^^ now were wrapped in sadness. Struggling 
at birth against the gloom of mourning, their love was 
onl}" the more in harmony with the provincial plainness 
of that gray and ruined house. As they exchanged a 


186 


EugSnie Grandet, 


few words beside the well in the silent court, or lingered 
in the garden for the sunset hour, sitting on a mossy 
seat saying to each other the infinite nothings of love, 
or mused in the silent calm which reigned between the 
house and the ramparts like that beneath the arches of 
a church, Charles comprehended the sanctity of love ; 
for his great ladj^, his dear Annette, had taught him 
only its stormy troubles. At this moment he left the 
worldly passion, coquettish, vain, and showy as it was, 
and turned to the true, pure love. He liked even the 
house, whose customs no longer seemed to him ridicu- 
lous. He got up early in the mornings that he might 
talk with Eugenie for a moment before her father came 
to dole out the provisions ; when the steps of the old 
man sounded on the staircase he escaped into the gar- 
den. The small criminality of this morning tUe-a-tete 
which Nanon pretended not to see, gave to their innocent 
love the lively charm of a forbidden joy. 

After breakfast, when Grandet had gone to his fields 
and his other occupations, Charles remained with the 
mother and daughter, finding an unknown pleasure in 
holding their skeins, in watching them at work, in lis- 
tening to their quiet prattle. The simplicit}^ of this 
half-monastic life, which revealed to him the beauty of 
these souls, unknown and unknowing of the world, 
touched him keenly. He had believed such morals 
impossible in France, and admitted their existence 


EugSnie G-randet, 


187 


nowhere but in Germany ; even so, they seemed to him 
fabulous, only real in the novels of Auguste Lafon- 
taine. Soon Eugenie became to him the Margaret of 
Goethe — before her fall. Day by day his words, his 
looks enraptured the poor girl, who yielded herself up 
with delicious non-resistance to the current of love ; she 
caught her happiness as a swimmer seizes the over- 
hanging branch of a willow to draw himself from the 
river and lie at rest upon its shore. Did no dread 
of a coming absence sadden the happy hours of those 
fleeting days ? Daily some little circumstance reminded 
them of the parting that was at hand. 

Three days after the departure of des Grassins, 
Grandet took his nephew to the Civil courts, with the 
solemnity which country people attach to all legal acts, 
that he might sign a deed surrendering his rights in 
his father’s estate. Terrible renunciation ! species of 
domestic apostasy ! Charles also ^ went before Maitre 
Cruchot to make two powers of attorney, — one for des 
Grassins, the other for the friend whom he had charged 
with the sale of his belongings. After that he attended 
to all the formalities necessary" to obtain a passport for 
foreign countries ; and finally, when he received his sim- 
ple mourning clothes from Paris, he sent for the tailor 
of Saumur and sold to him his useless wardrobe. This 
last act pleased Grandet exceedingly. 

“ Ah ! now you look like a man prepared to embark 


188 


EugSnie Grandet, 


and make your fortune,” he said, when Charles ap- 
peared in a surtout of plain black cloth. “Good! 
very good ! ” 

“ I hope you will believe, monsieur,” answered his 
nephew, “ that I shall always try to conform to my 
situation.” 

“ What ’s that? ” said his uncle, his eyes lighting up 
at a handful of gold which Charles was carrying. 

“Monsieur, I have collected all my buttons and rings 
and other superfluities which may have some value ; but 
not knowing any one in Saumur, I wanted to ask you 
to — ” 

“ To buy them? ” said Grandet, interrupting him. 

“No, uncle; only to tell me of an honest man 
who — ” 

“ Give me those things, I will go upstairs and esti- 
mate their value ; I will come back and tell j^ou what it 
is to a fraction. Jeweller’s gold,” examining a long 
chain, “ eighteen or nineteen carats.” 

The goodman held out his huge hand and received 
the mass of gold, which he carried away. 

“ Cousin,” said Charles, “ may I offer you these two 
buttons ? They can fasten ribbons round your wrists ; 
that sort of bracelet is much the fashion just now.” 

“ I accept without hesitation,” she answered, giving 
him an understanding look. 

“ Aunt, here is my mother’s thimble ; I have always 


EugSnie QrandeL 


189 


kept it carefully in my dressing-case,” said Charles, 
presenting a pretty gold thimble to Madame Grandet, 
who for many years had longed for one. 

‘‘I cannot thank 3^ou ; no words are possible, my 
nephew,” said the poor mother, whose eyes filled with 
tears. “ Night and morning in my prayers I shall add 
one for you, the most earnest of all — for those who 
travel. If I die, Eugenie will keep this treasure for 
you.” 

“ They are worth nine hundred and eighty-nine 
francs, seventy-five centimes,” said Grandet, opening 
the door. “ To save you the pain of selling them, 
I will advance the money — in Uvres” 

The word livres on the littoral of the Loire signifies 
that crown prices of six livres are to be accepted as six 
francs without deduction. 

“ I dared not propose it to you,” answered Charles ; 
“ but it was most repugnant to me to sell my jewels to 
some second-hand dealer in your own town. People 
should wash their dirty linen at home, as Napoleon 
said. I thank you for your kindness.” 

Grandet scratched his ear, and there was a moment’s 
silence. 

“ My dear uncle,” resumed Charles, looking at him 
with an uneasy air, as if he feared to wound his feel- 
ings, “ my aunt and cousin have been kind enough to 
accept a trifling remembrance of me. Will you allow me 


190 


Eugenie Grandet, 


to give you these sleeve-buttons, which are useless to 
me now? They will remind you of a poor fellow who, 
far away, will always think of those who are henceforth 
all his family.” 

“ My lad, my lad, you must n’t rob yourself this way ! 
Let me see, wife, what have you got?” he added, turn- 
ing eagerly to her. ‘‘ Ah ! a gold thimble. And you, 
little girl? What ! diamond buttons? Yes, I ’ll accept 
your present, nephew,” he answered, shaking Charles 
by the hand. “ But — you must let me — pay — your 
— yes, your passage to the Indies. Yes, I wish to pay 
your passage because — d 'ye see, my boy ? — in valuing 
your jewels I estimated onl}^ the weight of the gold ; 
very likely the workmanship is worth something. So 
let us settle it that I am to give you fifteen hundred 
francs — in livres ; Cruchot will lend them to me. I 
have n’t got a copper farthing here, — unless Perrotet, 
who is behindhand with his rent, should pay up. By 
the bye, I ’ll go and see him.” 

He took his hat, put on his gloves, and went out. 

“ Then you are reaUy going?” said Eugenie to her 
cousin, with a sad look, mingled with admiration. 

“ I must,” he said, bowing his head. 

For some days past, Charles’s whole bearing, manners, 
and speech had become those of a man who, in spite of 
his profound affliction, feels the weight of immense 
obligations and has the strength to gather courage from 


EugSnie Grandet, 


191 


misfortune. He no longer repined, he became a man. 
Eugenie never augured better of her cousin’s character 
than when she saw him come down in the plain black 
clothes which suited well with his pale face and sombre 
countenance. On that day the two women put on their 
own mourning, and all three assisted at a Requiem 
celebrated in the parish church for the soul of the late 
Guillaume Grandet. 

At the second breakfast Charles received letters from 
Paris and began to read them. 

“ Well, cousin, are j^ou satisfied with the manage- 
ment of your aflTairs? ” said Eugenie in a low voice. 

“ Never ask such questions, my daughter,” said 
Grandet. “What the devil! do I tell you my affairs? 
Why do you poke your nose into your cousin’s ? Let 
the lad alone!” 

“ Oh ! I have n’t any secrets,” said Charles. 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta, nephew; you’ll soon find out that 
you must hold j^our tongue in business.” 

When the two lovers were alone in the garden, 
Charles said to Eugenie, drawing her down on the 
old bench beneath the walnut-tree, — 

“ I did right to trust Alphonse ; he has done fa- 
mously. He has managed my affairs with prudence 
and good faith. I now owe nothing in Paris. All 
my things have been sold ; and he tells me that he 
has taken the advice of an old sea-captain and spent 


192 Euginie Grrandet, 

three thousand francs on a commercial outfit of Euro- 
pean curiosities which will be sure to be in demand in 
the Indies. He has sent my trunks to Nantes, where a 
ship is loading for San Domingo. In five days, Euge- 
nie, we must bid each other farewell — perhaps forever, 
at least for 3 ’ears. My outfit and ten thousand francs, 
which two of my friends send me, are a very small 
beginning. I cannot look to return for many years. 
My dear cousin, do not weigh your life in the scales 
with mine ; I may perish ; some good marriage may be 
oflfered to 3 ’ou — ” 

“ Do 3 ’ou love me? ’’ she said. 

“ Oh, j’es ! indeed, yes ! ” he answered, with a depth 
of tone that revealed an equal depth of feeling. 

“I shall wait, Charles — Good heavens! there is 
my father at his window,” she said, repulsing her 
cousin, who leaned forward to kiss her. 

She ran quickly under the archway. Charles fol- 
lowed her. When she saw him, she retreated to the 
foot of the staircase and opened the swing-door ; then, 
scarcely knowing where she was going, Eugenie reached 
the corner near Nanon’s den, at the darkest end of the 
passage. There Charles caught her hand and drew her 
to his heart. Passing his arm about her waist, he made 
her lean gently upon him. Eugenie no longer resisted ; 
she received and gave the purest, the sweetest, and yet, 
withal, the most unreserved of kisses. 


EugSnie Grandet, 


193 


“ Dear Eugenie, a cousin is better than a brother, 
for he can marry you,” said Charles. 

“So be it!” cried Nanon, opening the door of her 
lair. 

The two lovers, alarmed, fled into the hall, where 
Eugenie took up her work and Charles began to read 
the litanies of the Virgin in Madame Grandet’s praj^er- 
book. 

“ Mercy I ” cried Nanon, “ now they ’re saying their 
prayers.” 

As soon as Charles announced his immediate depar- 
ture, Grandet bestirred himself to testify much interest 
in his nephew. He became verj^ liberal of all that cost 
him nothing ; took pains to And a packer ; declared the 
man asked too much for his cases ; insisted on making 
them himself out of old planks ; got up early in the 
morning to flt and plane and nail together the strips, 
out of which he made, to his own satisfaction, some 
strong cases, in which he packed all Charles’s eflects ; 
he also took upon himself to send them hj boat down 
the Loire, to insure them, and get them to Nantes in 
proper time. 

After the kiss taken in the passage, the hours fled for 
Eugenie with frightful rapidity. Sometimes she thought 
of following her cousin. Those who have known that 
most endearing of all passions, — the one whose duration 
is each day shortened by time, by age, by mortal illness, 
13 


194 


Eugenie Crrandet. 


by human chances and fatalities, — they will under- 
stand the poor girl’s tortures. She wept as she walked 
in the garden, now so naiTow to her, as indeed the 
court, the house, the town all seemed. She launched 
in thought upon the wide expanse of the ocean he was 
about to traverse. At last the eve of his departure came. 
That morning, in the absence of Grandet and of Nanon, 
the precious case which contained the two portraits was 
solemnly installed in the only drawer of the old cabinet 
which could be locked, where the now empty velvet 
purse was Ijdng. This deposit was not made without 
a goodly number of tears and kisses. When Eugenie 
placed the key within her bosom she had no courage to 
forbid the kiss with which Charles sealed the act. 

“ It shall never leave that place, my friend,” she 
said. 

“ Then my heart will be alwaj’s there.” 

“Ah! Charles, it is not right,” she said, as though 
she blamed him. 

“Are we not married?” he said. “I have thy 
promise, — then take mine.” 

“ Thine ^ I am thine forever ! ” they each said, repeat- 
ing the words twice over. 

No promise made upon this earth was ever purer. 
The innocent sincerity of Eugenie had sanctified for a 
moment the young man’s love. 

On the morrow the breakfast was sad. Nanon her- 


EugSnie Grandet, 


195 


self, in spite of the gold-embroidered robe and a Jean- 
nette cross bestowed by Charles, had tears in her eyes. 

“ The poor dear monsieur who is going on the seas — 
oh, may God guide him ! 

At half-past ten the whole family started to escort 
Charles to the diligence for Nantes. Nanon let loose 
the dog, locked the door, and insisted on carrying the 
young man’s carpet-bag. All the tradesmen in the 
tortuous old street were on the sill of their shop-doors 
to watch the procession, which was joined in the market- 
place by Maitre Cruchot. 

“ Eugenie, be sure you don’t cry,” said her mother. 

“Nephew,” said Grandet in the doorway of the inn 
from which the coach started, kissing Charles on both 
cheeks, “depart poor, return rich; you will find the 
honor of your father safe. I answer for that myself, 
I — Grandet ; for it will only depend on you to — ” 

“Ah! my uncle, you soften the bitterness of my 
departure. Is it not the best gift that you could make 
me?” 

Not understanding his uncle’s words which he had 
thus interrupted, Charles shed tears of gratitude upon 
the tanned cheeks of the old miser, while Eugenie 
pressed the hand of her cousin and that of her father 
with all her strength. The notary smiled, admiring the 
sly speech of the old man, which he alone had under- 
stood. The family stood about the coach until it 


196 


EugSnie Grrandet, 


started ; then'as it disappeared upon the bridge, and 
its rumble grew fainter in the distance, Grandet said : 

“ Good-by to you ! ” 

Happil}" no one but Maitre Cruchot heard the excla- 
mation. Eugenie and her mother had gone to a corner 
of the quay from which they could still see the diligence 
and wave their white handkerchiefs, to which Charles 
made answer by displaying his. 

“Ah! mother, would that I had the power of God 
for a single moment,” said Eugenie, when she could no 
longer see her lover’s handkerchief. 

Not to interrupt the cuiTent of events which are 
about to take place in the bosom of the Grandet family, 
it is necessary to cast a forestalling e3’e upon the vari- 
ous operations which the goodman carried on in Paris 
by means of Monsieur des Grassins. A month after 
the latter’s departure from Saumur, Grandet became 
possessed of a certificate of a hundred thousand francs a 
year from his investment in the Funds, bought at eighty 
francs net. The particulars revealed at his death by the 
inventory of his property threw no light upon the means 
which his suspicious nature took to remit the price of 
the investment and receive the certificate thereof. 
Maitre Cruchot was of opinion that Nanon, unknown 
to herself, was the trusty instrument by which the 
money was transported ; for about this time she was 


Euginie Crrandet, 


197 


absent five days, under a pretext of putting things to 
rights at Froidfond, — as if the goodman were capable 
of leaving anything lying about or out of order ! 

In all that concerned the business of the house of 
Guillaume Grandet the old cooper’s intentions were 
fulfilled to the letter. The Bank of France, as every- 
body knows, affords exact information about all the 
large fortunes in Paris and the provinces. The names 
of des Grassins and Felix Grandet of Saumur were well 
known there, and they enjoyed the esteem bestowed on 
financial celebrities whose wealth comes from immense 
and unencumbered territorial possessions. The arrival 
of the Saumur banker for the purpose, it was said, of 
honorably liquidating the affairs of Grandet of Paris, 
was enough to avert the shame of protested notes from 
the memory of the defunct merchant. The seals on the 
property were taken off in presence of the creditors, 
and the notary employed by Grandet went to work at 
once on the inventory of the assets. Soon after this, 
des Grassins called a meeting of the creditors, who 
unanimously elected him, conjointly with Fran9ois Kel- 
ler, the head of a rich banking-house and one of those 
principally interested in the affair, as liquidators, with 
full power to protect both the honor of the family and 
the interests of the claimants. The credit of Grandet 
of Saumur, the hopes he diffused by means of des Gras- 
sins into the minds of aU concerned, facilitated the trans- 


198 


Euginie Qrandet, 


actions. Not a single creditor proved recalcitrant ; no 
one thought of passing his claim to his profit-and-loss 
account ; each and all said confidently, ‘ ‘ Grandet of 
Saumur will pay.” 

Six months went by. The Parisians had redeemed 
the notes in circulation as they fell due, and held 
them under lock and key in their desks. First result 
aimed at by the old cooper ! Nine months after this 
preliminary meeting, the two liquidators distributed 
fortj'-seven per cent to each creditor on his claim. 
This amount was obtained by the sale of the securities, 
property, and possessions of all kinds belonging to the 
late Guillaume Grandet, and was paid over with scrupu- 
lous fidelity. Unimpeachable integrity was shown in 
the transaction. The creditors gratefully acknowledged 
the remarkable and incontestable honor displayed by the 
Grandets. When these praises had circulated for a 
certain length of time, the creditors asked for the rest 
of their money. It became necessary to write a collec- 
tive letter to Grandet of Saumur. 

“ Here it comes ! ” said the old man as he threw the 
letter into the fire. “ Patience, my good friends ! ” 

In answer to the proposals contained in the letter, 
Grandet of Saumur demanded that all vouchers for 
claims against the estate of his brother should be de- 
posited with a notary’, together with acquittances for the 
forty-seven per cent ah’eady paid ; he made this demand 


Euginie Grrandet, 


199 


under pretence of sifting the accounts and finding out 
the exact condition of the estate. It roused at once a 
variet}^ of difficulties. Generally speaking, the creditor 
is a species of maniac, ready to agree to anything 
one day, on the next breathing fire and slaughter; 
later on, he grows amicable and easy-going. To-day his 
wife is good-humored, his last baby has cut its first 
tooth, all is well at home, and he is determined not 
to lose a sou ; on the morrow it rains, he can’t go out, 
he is gloomy, he says yes to any proposal that is made 
to him, so long as it will put an end to the afiTair ; on 
the third day he declares he must have guarantees ; by 
the end of the month he wants his debtor’s head, and 
becomes at heart an executioner. The creditor is a 
good deal like the sparrow on whose tail confiding 
children are invited to put salt, — with this diflTerence, 
that he applies the image to his claim, the proceeds of 
which he is never able to lay hold of. Grandet had 
studied the atmospheric variations of creditors, and 
the creditors of his brother justified all his calculations. 
Some were angry, and flatly refused to give in their 
vouchers. 

“Very good; so much the better,” said Grandet, 
rubbing his hands over the letter in which des Grassins 
announced the fact. 

Others agreed to the demand, but only on condi- 
tion that their rights should be fully guaranteed ; they 


200 


EugSnie Grandet 


renounced none, and even reser^^ed the power of ulti- 
mately^ compelling a failure. On this began a long corre- 
spondence, which ended in Grandet of Saumur agreeing 
to all conditions. Bj means 'of this concession the 
placable creditors were able to bring the dissatisfied 
creditors to reason. The deposit was then made, but 
not without sundry complaints. 

“Your goodman,” they said to des Grassins, “is 
tricking us.’^ 

Twenty>three months after the death of Guillaume 
Grandet many" of the creditors, carried away by more 
pressing business in the markets of Paris, had foi’gotten 
their Grandet claims, or only thought of them to say : 

“ I begin to believe that forty-seven per cent is all I 
shall ever get out of that aflfair.” 

The old cooper had calculated on the power of time, 
which, as he used to say, is a pretty good devil after 
all. By the end of the third year des Grassins wrote 
to Grandet that he had brought the creditors to agree 
to give up their claims for ten per cent on the two 
million four hundred thousand francs still due by the 
house of Grandet. Grandet answered that the notary 
and the broker whose shameful failures had caused the 
death of his brother were still living, that they might 
now have recovered their credit, and that they ought 
to be sued, so as to get something out of them towards 
lessening the total of the deficit. 


EugSnie Grandet, 


201 


By the end of the fourth year the liabilities were 
definitely estimated at a sum of twelve hundred thou- 
sand francs. Man}’^ negotiations, lasting over six 
months, took place between the creditors and the liqui- 
dators, and between the liquidators and Grandet. To 
make a long story short, Grandet of Saumur, anxious 
by this time to get out of the affair, told the liquidators, 
about the ninth month of the fourth year, that his 
nephew had made a fortune in the Indies and was dis- 
posed to pay his father’s debts in full ; he therefore 
could not take upon himself to make any settlement with- 
out previously consulting him ; he had written to him, 
and was expecting an answer. The creditors were held 
in check until the middle of the fifth year by the words, 
‘ ‘ payment in full,” which the wily old miser threw out 
from time to time as he laughed in his beard, saying 
with a smile and an oath, ‘ ‘ Those Parisians ! ” 

But the creditors were reserved for a fate unexampled 
in the annals of commerce. When the events of this 
history bring them once more into notice, they will be 
found still in the position Grandet had resolved to force 
them into from the first. 

As soon as the Funds reached a hundred and fifteen, 
Pere Grandet sold out his interests and withdrew two 
million four hundred thousand francs in gold, to which 
he added, in his coffers, the six hundred thousand francs 
compound interest which he had derived from the capi- 


202 Eugenie Grandet 

tal. Des Grassins now lived in Paris. In the first 
place he had been made a deputy ; then he became 
infatuated (father of a family as he was, though horribly 
bored by the provincial life of Saumur) with a pretty 
actress at the Theatre de Madame, known as Florine, 
and he presently relapsed into the old habits of his 
army life. It is useless to speak of his conduct ; Sau- 
mur considered it profoundly immoral. His wife was 
fortunate in the fact of her property being settled upon 
herself, and in having sufiScient ability to keep up the 
banking-house in Saumur, which was managed in her 
name and repaired the breach in her fortune caused by 
the extravagance of her husband. The Cruchotines 
made so much talk about the false position of the quasi- 
widow that she married her daughter very badlj", and 
was forced to give up all hope of an alliance between 
Eugenie Grandet and her son. Adolphe joined his 
father in Paris and became, it was said, a worthless 
fellow. The Cruchots triumphed. 

“ Your husband has n’t common sense,” said Grandet 
as he lent Madame des Grassins some money on a note 
securely indorsed. “ I am very sorry for 3’ou, for you 
are a good little woman.” 

“Ah, monsieur,” said the poor lady, “who could 
have believed that when he left Saumur to go to Paris 
on your business he was going to his ruin ? ” 

“ Heaven is my witness, madame, that up to the last 


EiigSnie GrandeL 


203 


moment I did all I could to prevent him from going. 
Monsieur le president was most anxious to take his 
place ; but he was determined to go, and now we all 
see why.” 

In this wa}^ Grandet made it quite plain that he was 
under no obligation to des Grassins. 

^n all situations women have more cause for suffering 
than men, and the}" suffer more. Man has strength and 
the power of exercising it; he acts, moves, thinks, 
occupies himself ; he looks ahead, and sees consolation 
in the future./ It was thus with Charles. But the 
woman stays at home ; she is always face to face with 
the grief from which nothing distracts her; she goes 
down to the depths of the abyss which yawns before 
her, measures it, and often fills it with her tears and 
prayers. / Thus did Eugenie. She initiated herself 
into her destiny. To feel, to love, to suffer, to devote 
herself, — is not this the sum of woman’s life ? Eugenie 
was to be in all things a woman, except in the one 
thing that consoles for all. Her happiness, picked up 
like nails scattered on a wall — to use the fine simile of 
Bossuet — would never so much as fill even the hollow 
of her hand. Sorrows are never long in coming ; for 
her they came soon. The day after Charles’s departure 
the house of Monsieur Grandet resumed its ordinary 
aspect in the eyes of all, except in those of Eugenie, to 


204 


Eugenie GrandeL 


whom it grew suddenly empty. She wished, if it could 
be done unknown to her father, that Charles’s room 
might be kept as he had left it. Madame Grandet and 
Kanon were willing accomplices in this statu quo. 

“ Who knows but he ma}^ come back sooner than we 
think for? ” she said. 

“ Ah, don’t I wish I could see him back ! ” answered 
Nanon. “ I took to him ! He was such a dear, sweet 
young man, — pretty too, with his curty hair.” Euge- 
nie looked at Nanon. “Holy Virgin! don’t look at 
me that way, mademoiselle ; your eyes are like those 
of a lost soul.” 

From that day the beauty of Mademoiselle Grandet 
took a new character. The solemn thoughts of love 
which slowly filled her soul, and the dignity of the 
woman beloved, gave to her features an illumination 
such as painters render hj a halo. Before the coming 
of her cousin, Eugenie might be compared to the Virgin 
before the conception ; after he had gone, she was 
like the Virgin Mother, — she had given birth to love. 
These two Marys so difierent, so well represented by 
Spanish art, embody one of those shining symbols with 
which Christianity abounds. 

Eeturning from Mass on the morning after Charles’s 
departure, — having made a vow to hear it daily, — Euge- 
nie bought a map of the world, which she nailed up beside 
her looking-glass, that she might follow her cousin on 


EugSnie G-randeU 205 

his westward way, that she might put herself, were it 
ever so little, day by day into the ship that bore him, 
and see him and ask him a thousand questions, — “ Art 
thou well? Dost thou suffer? Dost thou think of me 
when the star, whose beauty and usefulness thou hast 
taught me to know, shines upon thee ? ” In the morn- 
ings she sat pensive beneath the walnut-tree, on the 
worm-eaten bench covered with gray lichens, where 
they had said to each other so many precious things, 
so many trifles, where they had built the pretty castles 
of their future home. She thought of the future now 
as she looked upward to the bit of sky which was all 
the high walls suffered her to see ; then she turned her 
eyes to the angle where the sun crept on, and to the 
roof above the room in which he had slept. Hers was 
the solitary love, the persistent love, which glides into 
every thought and becomes the substance, or, as our 
fathers might have said, the tissue of life. When the 
would-be friends of Pere Grandet came in the evening 
for their game at cards, she was gay and dissimulating ; 
but aU the morning she talked of Charles with her 
mother and Nanon. Nanon had brought herself to see 
that she could pity the sufferings of her young mistress 
without failing in her duty to the old master, and she 
would say to Eugenie, — 

“ If I had a man for myself I 'd — I ’d follow him 
to hell, yes, I ’d exterminate myself for him ; but I Ve 


206 EugSnie Qrandet 

none. I shall die and never know what life is. Would 
you believe, mamz’elle, that old Cornoiller (a good 
fellow all the same) is always round my petticoats 
for the sake of my money, — just for all the world like 
the rats who come smelling after the master’s cheese 
and paying court to you? I see it all; I’ve got a 
shrewd eye, though I am as big as a steeple. Well, 
mamz’elle, it pleases me, but it is n’t love.” 


Eugenie Grandet, 


207 


X. 


Two months went by. This domestic life, once so 
monotonous, was now quickened with the intense inter- 
est of a secret that bound these women intimately 
together. For them Charles lived and moved beneath 
the grim gray rafters of the hall. Night and morning 
Eugenie opened the dressing-case and gazed at the 
portrait of her aunt. One Sunday morning her mother 
surprised her as she stood absorbed in finding her 
cousin’s features in his mother’s face. Madame Gran- 
det was then for the first time admitted into the terrible 
secret of the exchange made by Charles against her 
daughter’s treasure. 

“ You gave him all ! ” cried the poor mother, terrified. 
“ What will you say to your father on New Year’s Day 
when he asks to see your gold ? ” 

Eugenie’s eyes grew fixed, and the two women lived 
through mortal terror for more than half the morning. 
They were so troubled in mind that they missed high 
Mass, and only went to the military service. In three 
days the year 1819 would come to an end. In three 
days a terrible drama would begin, a bourgeois tragedy. 


208 


EugSnie GrandeL 


without poison, or dagger, or the spilling of blood; 
but — as regards the actors in it — more cruel than all 
the fabled horrors in the family of the Atrides. 

“ What will become of us? ” said Madame Grandet 
to her daughter, letting her knitting fall upon her 
knees. 

The poor mother had gone through such anxiety for 
the past two months that the woollen sleeves which 
she needed for the coming winter were not yet finished. 
This domestic fact, insignificant as it seems, bore sad 
results. For want of those sleeves, a chill seized her 
in the midst of a sweat caused by a terrible explosion 
of anger on the part of her husband. 

“I have been thinking, m3" poor child, that if 3’ou 
had confided 3’our secret to me we should have had 
time to write to Monsieur des Grassins in Paris. He 
might have sent us gold pieces like 3’ours ; though 
Grandet knows them all, perhaps — ” 

“ Where could we have got the money?” 

“ I would have pledged m3" own property. Besides, 
Monsieur des Grassins would have — ” 

“It is too late,” said Eugenie in a broken, hollow 
voice. “ To-morrow morning we must go and wish 
him a happy New Year in his chamber.” 

“But, my daughter, why should I not consult the 
Cruchots ? ” 

“ No, no ; it would be delivering me up to them, and 


EugSnie Grandet, 


209 


putting ourselves in their power. Besides, I have 
chosen my course. I have done right, I repent of 
nothing. God will protect me. His will be done ! 
Ah ! mother, if 3 ’ou had read his letter, 3 ’ou, too, would 
have thought onl}" of him.” 

The next morning, January’ 1, 1820, the horrible fear 
to which mother and daughter were a prej" suggested 
to their minds a natural excuse b}’ which to escape the 
solemn entrance into Grandet’s chamber. The winter 
of 1819-1820 was one of the coldest of that epoch. 
The snow encumbered the roofs. 

Madame Grandet called to her husband as soon as 
she heard him stirring in his chamber, and said, — 

“ Grandet, will you let Nanon light a fire here for 
me ? The cold is so sharp that I am freezing under the 
bedclothes. At m}^ age I need some comforts. Be- 
sides,” she added, after a slight pause, “ Eugenie shall 
come and dress here ; the poor child might get an ill- 
ness from dressing in her cold room in such weather. 
Then we will go and wish you a happj^ New Year beside 
the fire in the hall.” 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta, what a tongue! a prett}' way to 
begin the new 3 ’ear, Ma’ame Grandet ! You never 
talked so much before ; but 3 ’ou have n’t been sopping 
your bread in wine, I know that.” 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“Well,” resumed the goodman, who no doubt had 
14 


210 


Eugenie Grandet, 


some reason of his own for agreeing to his wife’s re- 
quest, “ I ’ll do what you ask, Madame Grandet. You 
are a good woman, and I don’t want any harm to hap- 
pen to 3 ^ou at your time of life, — though as a general 
thing the Bertellieres are as sound as a roach. Hein ! 
isn’t that so?” he added after a pause. “Well, I 
foi’give them ; we got their property in the end.” And 
he coughed. 

“ You are very gay this morning, monsieur,” said the 
poor woman gravely. 

“I’m always gay, — 

“ ‘ Gai, gai, gai, le tonuelier, 

Raccommodez votre cuvier ! * ** 

he answered, entering his wife’s room fully dressed. 
“Yes, on my word, it is cold enough to freeze you 
solid. We shall have a fine breakfast, wife. Des 
Grassins has sent me a pate-de-foie-gras truffled ! I am 
going now to get it at the coach-ofl3ce. There ’ll be a 
double napoleon for Eugenie in the package,” he whis- 
pered in Madame Grandet’s ear. “ I have no gold left, 
wife. I had a few stray pieces — I don’t mind telling 
you that — but I had to let them go in business.” 

Then, by way of celebrating the new year, he kissed 
her on the forehead. 

“ Eugenie,” cried the mother, when Grandet was 
fairly gone, “ I don’t know which side of the bed your 


EugSnie Q-randet. 


211 


father got out of, but he is good-tempered this morning. 
Perhaps we shall come out safe after all.” 

“What’s happened to the master?” said Nanon, 
entering her mistress’s room to light the fire. “ First 
place, he said, ‘ Good-morning ; happy New Year, you 
big fool ! Go and light my wife’s fire, she ’s cold ; ’ and 
then, did n’t I feel silly when he held out his hand and 
gave me a six-franc piece, which is n’t worn one bit ? 
Just look at it, madame ! Oh, the kind man ! He is 
a good man, that ’s a fact. There are some people who 
the older they get the harder they grow ; but he, — why 
he’s getting soft and improving with time, like your 
ratafia ! He is a good, good man — ” 

The secret of Grandet’s joy lay in the complete suc- 
cess of his speculation. Monsieur des Grassins, after 
deducting the amount which the old cooper owed him 
for the discount on a hundred and fifty thousand francs 
in Dutch notes, and for the surplus which he had ad- 
vanced to make up the sum required for the investment 
in the Funds which was to produce a hundred thousand 
francs a year, had now sent him, by the diligence, 
thirty thousand francs in silver coin, the remainder of 
his first half-year’s interest, informing him at the same 
time that the Funds had already gone up in value. 
They were then quoted at eighty-nine ; the shrewdest 
capitalists bought in, towards the last of January, at 
ninety-three. Grandet had thus gained in two months 


212 


Eugenie Grandet, 


twelve per cent on his capital ; he had simplified his 
accounts, and would in future receive fiftj" thousand 
francs interest every six months, without incurring any 
taxes or costs for repairs. He understood at last what 
it was to invest money in the public securities, — a 
sj'stem for which provincials have always shown a 
marked repugnance, — and at the end of five j^ears he 
found himself master of a capital of six millions, which 
increased without much effort of his own, and which, 
joined to the value and proceeds of his territorial pos- 
sessions, gave him a fortune that was absolutely colos- 
sal. The six francs bestowed on Nanon were perhaps 
the reward of some great service which the poor servant 
had rendered to her master unawares. 

“Oh! oh! where’s Pere Grandet going? He has 
been skurrying about since sunrise as if to a fire,” 
said the tradespeople to each other as they opened their 
shops for the day. 

When they saw him coming back from the wharf, 
followed hy a porter from the coach-office wheeling a 
barrow which was laden with sacks, they all had their 
comments to make : — 

“Water flows to the river; the old fellow was run- 
ning after his gold,” said one. 

“ He gets it from Paris and Froidfond and Holland,” 
said another. 

“ He ’ll end by buying up Saumur,” cried a third. 


EugSnie Grandet, 


213 


“ He doesn’t mind the cold, he’s so wrapped up in 
his gains,” said a wife to her husband. 

“ Hey ! hey ! Monsieur Grandet, if that ’s too heavy 
for 5’ou,” said a cloth-dealer, his nearest neighbor, “I’ll 
take it off your hands.” 

“ Heavy? ” said the cooper, “ I should think so ; it ’s 
all sous ! ” 

“ Silver sous,” said the porter in a low voice. 

“If you want me to take care of you, keep your 
tongue between your teeth,” said the goodman to the 
porter as they reached the door. 

“ The old fox ! I thought he was deaf ; seems he can 
hear fast enough in frosty weather.” 

“ Here ’s twenty sous for your New Year, and mum ! ” 
said Grandet. “Be off with you! Nanon shall take 
back 3^our barrow. Nanon, are the linnets at church? ” 

“ Yes, monsieur.” 

“Then lend a hand! go to work!” he cried, piling 
the sacks upon her. In a few moments all were carried 
up to his inner room, where he shut himself in with 
them. “ When breakfast is ready, knock on the wall,” 
he said as he disappeared. “Take the barrow back 
to the coach-office.” 

The family did not breakfast that day until ten 
o’clock. 

“ Your father will not ask to see your gold down- 
stairs,” said Madame Grandet as they got back from 


214 


EugSnie Grandet 


Mass. “You must pretend to be very chilly. We 
may have time to replace the treasure before your 
fete-day.’^ 

Grandet came down the staircase thinking of his 
splendid speculation in government securities, and won- 
dering how he could metamorphose his Parisian silver 
into solid gold ; he was making up his mind to invest 
in this way everything he could lay hands on until 
the Funds should reach a par value. Fatal revery for 
Eugenie! As soon as he came in, the two women 
wished him a happy New Year, — his daughter by put- 
ting her [arms round his neck and caressing him; 
Madame Grandet gravely and with dignity. 

“Ha! ha! my child,” he said, kissing his daughter 
on both cheeks. “ I work for you, don’t you see? I 
think of your happiness. Must have money to be 
happy. Without money there ’s not a particle of hap- 
piness. Here ! there ’s a new napoleon for you. I sent 
to Paris for it. On my word of honor, it ’s all the gold 
I have ; you are the only one that has got any gold. 
I want to see your gold, little one.” 

“ Oh ! it is too cold ; let us have breakfast,” answered 
Eugenie. 

“ Well, after breakfast, then ; it will help the diges- 
tion. That fat des Grassins sent me the p^te. Eat as 
much as you like, my children, it costs nothing. Des 
Grassins is getting along very weU. I am satisfied 


Euginie Grrandet 


215 


with him. The old fish is doing Charles a good service, 
and gratis too. He is making a very good settlement 
of that poor deceased Grandef s business. Hoo ! hoo ! ” 
he muttered, with his mouth full, after a pause, “ how 
good it is ! Eat some, wife ; that will feed you for at 
least two days.” 

“I am not hungry. I am verj^ poorly; you know 
that.” 

“Ah, bah! you can stufi* yourself as full as you 
please without danger, you ’re a Bertelliere ; the}’ are 
all hearty. You are a bit yellow, that’s true; but I 
like yellow, myself.” 

The expectation of ignominious and public death is 
perhaps less horrible to a condemned criminal than the 
anticipation of what was coming after breakfast to 
Madame Grandet and Eugenie. The more gleefully 
the old man talked and ate, the more their hearts shrank 
within them. The daughter, however, had an inward 
prop at this crisis, — she gathered strength through 
love. 

“ For him ! for him ! ” she cried within her, “ I would 
die a thousand deaths.” 

At this thought, she shot a glance at her mother 
which fiamed with courage. 

“Clear away,” said Grandet to Nanon when, about 
eleven o’clock, breakfast was over, “but leave the 
table. We can spread your little treasure upon it,” he 


216 


Eugenie Grandet* 


said, looking at Eugenie. “ Little? Faith ! no ; it is n’t 
little. You possess, in actual value, five thousand nine 
hundred and fift3^-nine francs and the forty I gave .you 
just now. That makes six thousand francs, less one. 
Well, now see here, little one ! I ’ll give 3’ou that one 
franc to make up the round number. Hej* ! what are 
yon listening for, Nanon ? Mind j^our own business ; 
go and do j^our work.” 

Nanon disappeared. 

“ Now listen, Eugenie : you must give me back your 
gold. You won’t refuse j^our father, m3" little girl, 
hein?” 

The two women were dumb. 

“I have no gold m3"self. I had some, but it is all 
gone. I ’ll give 3"OU in return six thousand francs in 
Uvres^ and 3"Ou are to put them just where I tell you. 
You must n’t think anything more about 3"our ‘ dozen.’ 
When I marr}" 3"Ou (which will be soon) I shall get 3-011 
a husband who can give 3"Ou the finest ‘dozen’ ever 
seen in the provinces. Now attend to me, little girl. 
There ’s a fine chance for 3"Ou ; 3-00 can put 3"our six 
thousand francs into government funds, and 3'ou will 
receive €ver3" six months nearly two hundred francs 
interest, without taxes, or repairs, or frost, or hail, or 
floods, or an3"thing else to swallow up the mone3". 
Perhaps 3"Ou don’t like to part with 3"our gold, he3^, my 
girP Never mind, bring it to me all the same. I’ll 


Euginie Qrandet, 


217 


get you some more like it, — like those Dutch coins and 
the portugaises, the rupees of Mogul, and the genovineSy 
— I ’ll give you some more on your fete-days, and in 
three years you ’ll have got back half your little treasure. 
What ’s that 3’ou say ? Look up, now. Come, go and 
get it, the precious metal. You ought to kiss me on 
the eyelids for telling you the secrets and the mysteries 
of the life and death of money. Yes, silver and gold 
live and swarm like men ; they come, and go, and 
sweat, and multiply' — ” 

Eugenie rose ; but after making a few steps towards 
the door she turned abruptly, looked her father in the 
face, and said, — 

“ I have not got my gold.” 

“ You have not got your gold ! ” cried Grandet, start- 
ing up erect, like a horse that hears a cannon fired 
beside him. 

“ No, I have not got it.” 

“ You are mistaken, Eugenie.” 

“No.” 

“ By the shears of my father ! ” 

Whenever the old man swore that oath the rafters 
trembled. 

“Holy Virgin! Madame is turning pale,” cried 
Nanon. 

“ Grandet, your anger will kill me,” said the poor 
mother. 


218 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“ Ta, ta, ta, ta! nonsense; you never die in your 
family! Eugenie, what have you done with your 
gold?” he cried, rushing upon her. 

“ Monsieur,” said the daughter, falling at Madame 
Grandet’s knees, “ my mother is ill. Look at her; do 
not kill her.” 

Grandet was frightened by the pallor which over- 
spread his wife’s face, usually so yellow. 

“ Nanon, help me to bed,” said the poor woman in a 
feeble voice ; “ I am dying — ” 

Nanon gave her mistress an arm, Eugenie gave her 
another ; but it was only with infinite difficulty that they 
could get her upstairs, she fell with exhaustion at every 
step., Grandet remained alone. However, in a few 
moments he went up six or eight stairs and called 
out, — 

“ Eugenie, when your mother is in bed, come down.” 

“Yes, father” 

She soon came, after reassuring her mother. 

“ My daughter,” said Grandet, “ you will now tell me 
what you have done with your gold.” 

“ My father, if you make me presents of which I am 
not the sole mistress, take them back,” she answered 
coldly, picking up the napoleon from the chimney-piece 
and offering it to him. 

Grandet seized the coin and slipped it into his 
breeches’ pocket. 


EugSnie G-randet, 


219 


shall certainly never give you anything again. 
Not so much as that ! ” he said, clicking his thumb-nail 
against a front tooth. “ Do you dare to despise your 
father? have you no confidence in him? Don’t you 
know what a father is ? If he is nothing for you, he is 
nothing at all. Where is your gold ? ” 

“Father, I love and respect you, in spite of your 
anger ; but I humbly ask you to remember that 1 am 
twenty-three years old. You have told me often that 
I have attained my majority, and I do not forget it. 
I have used my money as I chose to use it, and you 
maybe sure that it was put to a good use — ” 

“ What use? ” 

“ That is an inviolable secret,” she answered. Have 
you no secrets ? ” 

“I am the head of the family; I have my own 
affairs.” 

“ And this is mine.” 

“It must be something bad if jovl can’t tell it to your 
father. Mademoiselle Grandet.” 

“ It is good, and I cannot tell it to my father.” 

“ At least you can tell me when you parted with 
your gold?” 

Eugenie made a negative motion with her head. 

“You had it on your birthday, hein? ” 

She grew as crafty through love as her father was 
through avarice, and reiterated the negative sign. 


220 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“Was there ever such obstinacy! It’s a theft,” 
cried Grandet, his voice going up in a crescendo which 
gradually echoed through the house. “What! here, 
in my own home, under my very eyes, somebody has 
taken your gold ! — the only gold we have ! — and I ’m 
not to know who has got it ! Gold is a precious thing. 
Virtuous girls go wrong sometimes, and give — I don’t 
know what; they do it among the great people, and 
even among the bourgeoisie. But give their gold ! — 
for you have given it to some one, hein? — ” 

Eugenie was silent and impassive. 

“Was there ever such a daughter? Is it possible 
that I am your father ? If you have invested it any- 
where, you must have a receipt — ” 

“ Was I free — yes or no — to do what I would with 
my own ? Was it not mine ? ” 

“ You are a child.” 

“ Of age.” 

Dumbfounded by his daughter’s logic, Grandet 
turned pale and stamped and swore. When at last 
he found words, he cried: “Serpent! Cursed girl! 
Ah, deceitful creature ! You know I love you, and 
you take advantage of it. She’d cut her father’s 
throat ! Good God ! you ’ve given our fortune to that 
ne’er-do-well, — that dandy with morocco boots! By 
the shears of my father ! I can’t disinherit j'Ou, but I 
curse you, — you and your cousin and your children ! 


EugSnie Qrandet, 


221 


Nothing good will come of it! Do you hear? If it 
was to Charles — but, no ; it’s impossible. What ! has 
that wretched fellow robbed me ? — ” 

He looked at his daughter, who continued cold and 
silent. 

“She won’t stir; she won’t flinch! She’s more 
Grandet than I ’m Grandet ! Ha ! you have not given 
your gold for nothing? Come, speak the truth ! ” 
Eugenie looked at her father with a sarcastic ex- 
pression that stung him. 

“Eugenie, you are here, in my house, — in your 
father’s house. If you wish to stay here, you must 
submit yourself to me. The priests tell you to obey 
me.” Eugenie bowed her head. “ You aflfront me in 
all I hold most dear. I will not see you again till you 
submit. Go to your chamber. You will stay there till 
I give you permission to leave it. Nanon will bring 
you bread and water. You hear me — go ! ” 

Eugenie burst into tears and fled up to her mother. 
Grandet, after marching two or three times round the 
garden in the snow without heeding the cold, suddenly 
suspected that his daughter had gone to her mother ; 
only too happy to find her disobedient to his orders, 
he climbed the stairs with the agility of a cat and 
appeared in Madame Grandet’s room just as she was 
stroking Eugenie’s hair, while the girl’s face was hid- 
den in her motherly bosom. 


222 


EugSnie Grandet, 


“Be comforted, my poor child,” she was saying; 
“ your father will get over it.” 

“She has no father!” said the old man. “ Can it 
be you and I, Madame Grandet, who have given birth 
to such a disobedient child? A fine education, — reli- 
gious, too ! Well! why are you not in your chamber? 
Come, to prison, to prison, mademoiselle ! ” 

“ Would you deprive me of my daughter, monsieur?” 
said Madame Grandet, turning towards him a face that 
was now red with fever. 

‘ ‘ If you want to keep her, carry her off ! Clear out — 
out of my house, both of you ! Thunder ! where is 
the gold ? what ’s become of the gold ? ” 

Eugenie rose, looked proudl}" at her father, and with- 
drew to her room. Grandet turned the key of the door. 

“ Nanon,” he cried, “ put out the fire in the hall.” 

Then he sat down in an armchair beside his wife’s 
fire and said to her, — 

“ Undoubtedly she has given the gold to that mis- 
erable seducer, Charles, who only wanted our money.” 

“I knew nothing about it,” she answered, turning 
to the other side of the bed, that she might escape 
the savage glances of her husband. “ I suffer so much 
from your violence that I shall never leave this room, 
if I trust my own presentiments, till I am carried out 
of it in my colffin. You ought to have spared me this 
suffering, monsieur, — you, to whom I have caused no 


EugSnie Grandet. 


223 


pain ; that is, I think so. Your daughter loves j’ou. 
I believe her to be as innocent as the babe unborn. 
Do not make her wretched. Eevoke j^our sentence. 
The cold is very severe ; you may give her some seri- 
ous illness.” 

“ I will not see her, neither will I speak to her. 
She shall stay in her room, on bread and water, until 
she submits to her father. What the devil ! should n’t 
a father know where the gold in his house has gone to ? 
She owned the only rupees in France, perhaps, and 
the Dutch ducats and the genovines — ” 

“ Monsieur, Eugenie is our only child ; and even if 
she had thrown them into the water — ” 

“Into the water!” cried her husband; “into the 
water! You are crazy, Madame Grandet! What I 
have said is said ; you know that well enough. If you 
want peace in this household, make your daughter con- 
fess, pump it out of her. Women understand how 
to do that better than we do. Whatever she has done, 
I sha’n’t eat her. Is she afraid of me? Even if she 
has plastered Charles with gold from head to foot, he 
is on the high seas, and nobody can get at him, hein ! ” 

“But, monsieur — ” Excited by the nervous crisis 
through which she had passed, and by the fate of her 
daughter, which brought forth all her tenderness and 
all her powers of mind, Madame Grandet suddenly 
observed a frightful movement of her husband’s wen, 


224 


JEuginie Grandet, 


and, in the very act of replying, she changed her 
speech without changing the tones of her voice, — 
“But, monsieur, I have not more influence over her 
than you have. She has said nothing to me ; she takes 
after you.” 

“ Tut, tut ! Your tongue is hung in the middle this 
morning. Ta, ta, ta, ta ! You are setting me at defiance, 
I do believe.' I daresay you are in league with her.” 

He looked fixedly at his wife. 

“ Monsieur Grandet, if you wish to kill me, you 
have onl}’ to go on like this. I tell you, monsieur, — 
and if it were to cost me my life, I would say it, — 
you do wrong by your daughter; she is more in the 
right than you are. That money belonged to her ; she 
is incapable of making any but a good use of it, and 
God alone has the right to know our good deeds. 
Monsieur, I implore j^ou, take Eugenie back into favor ; 
forgive her. If you will do this 3'ou will lessen the 
injury your anger has done me ; perhaps j^ou will save 
my life. My daughter! oh, monsieur, give me back 
my daughter ! ” 

I shall decamp,” he said ; “ the house is not habi- 
table. A mother and daughter talking and arguing 
like that ! Broooouh ! Pouah ! A fine New Year’s 
present you’ve made me, Eugenie,” he called out. 
“Yes, yes, cry away! What you’ve done will bring 
you remorse, do you hear? What ’s the good of taking 


Eugenie Grandet. 


225 


the sacrament six times every three months, if you give 
away your father’s gold secretly to an idle fellow who ’ll 
eat your heart out when you ’ve nothing else to give him ? 
You ’ll find out some day what your Charles is worth, 
■with his morocco boots and supercilious airs. He has 
got neither heart nor soul if he dared to carry off a j’oung 
girl’s treasure without the consent of her parents.” 

When the street-door was shut, Eugenie came out 
of her room and went to her mother. 

“What courage you have had for your daughter’s 
sake!” she said. 

“Ah! my child, see where forbidden things may 
lead us. You forced me to tell a lie.” 

“ I will ask God to punish only me.” 

“Is it true,” cried Nanon, rushing in alarmed, “ that 
mademoiselle is to be kept on bread and water for the 
rest of her life ? ” 

“What does that signify, Nanon?” said Eugenie 
tranquilly. 

“ Goodness ! do you suppose I ’ll ^2Xfrippe when the 
daughter of the house is eating dry bread? No, no ! ” 

“Don’t say a word about all this, Nanon,” said 
Eugenie. 

“ I ’ll be as mute as a fish ; but you ’ll see ! ” 

Grandet dined alone for the first time in twenty-four 


years. 


15 


226 


EiigSnie Grandet. 


“ So you ’re a widower, monsieur,” said Nanon ; “it 
must be disagreeable to be a widower with two women 
in the house.” 

“I did not speak to you. Hold your jaw, or I’ll 
turn you off! What is that I hear boiling in your 
saucepan on the stove?” 

“ It is grease I’m trying out.” 

“ There will be some company to-night. Light the 
fire.” 

The Cruchots, Madame des Grassins, and her son 
an’ived at the usual hour of eight, and were surprised 
to see neither Madame Grandet nor her daughter. 

“ My wife is not very well, and Eugenie is with 
her,” said the old wine-grower, whose face betraj^ed no 
emotion. 

At the end of an hour spent in idle conversation, 
Madame des Grassins, who had gone up to see Madame 
Grandet, came down, and every one inquired, — 

“ How is Madame Grandet?” 

“Not at all well,” she answered; “her condition 
seems to me reall}^ alarming. At her age 3^ou ought to 
take every precaution. Papa Grandet.” 

“We’ll see about it,” said the old man in an absent 
way. 

They all wished him good-night. When the Cru- 
chots got into the street Madame des Grassins said to 
them, — 


EugSnie Qrandet, 


227 


“There is something going on at the Grandets. 
The mother is very ill without her knowing it. The 
girl’s eyes are red, as if she had been crying all day. 
Can they be trying to marry her against her will?” 

When Grandet had gone to bed Nanon came softly 
to Eugenie’s room in her stockinged feet and showed 
her a pate baked in a saucepan. 

“ See, mademoiselle,” said the good soul, “ Cornoiller 
gave me a hare. You eat so little that this pate will 
last you full a week ; in such frosty weather it won’t 
spoil. You sha’n’t live on dry bread, I ’m determined ; 
it is n’t wholesome.” 

“ Poor Nanon ! ” said Eugenie, pressing her hand. 

“I’ve made it downright good and dainty, and he 
never found it out. I bought the lard and the spices 
out of my six francs : I ’m the mistress of my own 
money ; ” and she disappeared rapidly, fancying she 
heard Grandet. 


228 


Eugenie Grandet, 


XL 

For several months the old wine-grower came con- 
stantly to his wife’s room at all hours of the day, with- 
out ever uttering his daughter’s name, or seeing her, 
or making the smallest allusion to her. Madame 
Grandet did not leave her chamber, and daily grew 
worse. Nothing softened the old man ; he remained 
unmoved, harsh, and cold as a granite rock. He con- 
tinued to go and come about his business as usual ; but 
he ceased to stutter, talked less, and was more obdu- 
rate in business transactions than ever before. Often 
he made mistakes in adding up his figures. 

“ Something is going on at the Grandets’,” said the 
Grassinists and the Cruchotines. 

“What has happened in the Grandet family?” be- 
came a fixed question which everybody asked every- 
body else at the little evening-parties of Saumur. 
Eugenie went to Mass escorted by Nanon. If Madame 
des Grassins said a few words to her on coming out of 
church, she answered in an evasive manner, without 
satisfying any curiosity. However, at the end of two 


229 


EugSnie G-randet, 

months it became impossible to hide, either from the 
three Cruchots or from Madame des Grassins, the fact 
that Eugenie was in confinement. There came a mo- 
ment when all pretexts failed to explain her perpetual 
absence. Then, though it was impossible to discover 
by whom the secret had been betrayed, all the town 
became aware that ever since New Year’s day Made- 
moiselle Grandet had been kept in her room without 
fire, on bread and water, by her father’s orders, and 
that Nanon cooked little dainties and took them to 
her secretly at night. It was even known that the 
young woman was not able to see or take care of her 
mother, except at certain times when her father was 
out of the house. 

Grandet’s conduct was severely condemned. The 
whole town outlawed him, so to speak ; they remem- 
bered his treachery, his hard-heartedness, and they ex- 
communicated him. When he passed along the streets, 
people pointed him out and muttered at him. When his 
daughter came down the winding street, accompanied 
by Nanon, on her way to Mass or Vespers, the inhab- 
itants ran to the windows and examined with intense 
curiosity the bearing of the rich heiress and her coun- 
tenance, which bore the impress of angelic gentleness 
and melancholj^ Her imprisonment and the condem- 
nation of her father were as nothing to her. Had she 
not a map of the world, the little bench, the garden. 


Eugenie Qrandet, 

the angle of the wall? Did she not taste upon her 
lips the honey that love’s kisses left there ? She was 
ignorant for a time that the town talked about her, 
just as Grandet himself was ignorant of it. Pious and 
pure in heart before God, her conscience and her love 
helped her to suffer patiently the wrath and vengeance 
of her father. 

One deep grief silenced all others. Her mother, 
that gentle, tender creature, made beautiful by the 
light which shone from the inner to the outer as she 
approached the tomb, — her mother was perishing from 
day to dsiy. Eugenie often reproached herself as th^ 
innocent cause of the slow, cruel malady that was 
wasting her away. This remorse, though her mother 
soothed it, bound her still closer to her love. Every 
morning, as soon as her father left the house, she 
went to the bedside of her mother, and there Nanon 
brought her breakfast. The poor girl, sad, and suffer- 
ing through the sufferings of her mother, would turn her 
face to the old servant with a mute gesture, weep- 
ing, and yet not daring to speak of her cousin. It 
was Madame Grandet who first found courage to 
say, — 

“ Where is heF Why does he not write?” 

“Let us think about him, mother, but not speak of 
him. You are ill — you, before all.” 

“All” meant “ him.” 



EugSnie Grandet, 


231 


“ My child,” said Madame Grandet, “ I do not wish 
to live. God protects me and enables me to look with 
joy to the end of my misery.” 

Every utterance of this woman was unfalteringly 
pious and Christian. Sometimes, during the first 
months of the year, when her husband came to break- 
fast with her and tramped up and down the room, she 
would say to him a few religious words, always spoken 
with angelic sweetness, yet with the firmness of a 
woman to whom approaching death lends a courage 
she had lacked in life. 

“ Monsieur, I thank you for the interest you take in 
my health,” she would answer when he made some 
commonplace inquiry; ‘‘but if you reall}^ desire to 
render my last moments less bitter and to ease my 
grief, take back your daughter : be a Christian, a hus- 
band, and a father.” 

When he heard these words, Grandet would sit 
down by the bed with the air of a man who sees the 
rain coming and quietly gets under the shelter of a 
gateway till it is over. When these touching, tender, 
and religious supplications had all been made, he 
would say, — 

“You are rather pale to-day, my poor wife.” 

Absolute forgetfulness of his daughter seemed graven 
on his stony brow, on his closed lips. He was un- 
moved by the tears which fiowed down the white 


232 Eugenie Grandet. 

cheeks of his unhappy wife as she listened to his mean- 
ingless answers. 

“ May God pardon you,” she said, ‘‘ even as I par- 
don you ! You will some day stand in need of 
mercy.” 

Since Madame Grandet’s illness he had not dared to 
make use of his terrible “ Ta, ta, ta, ta ! ” Yet, for all 
that, his despotic nature was not disarmed by this angel 
of gentleness, whose ugliness day by day decreased, 
driven out by the ineffable expression of moral qualities 
which shone upon her face. She was all soul. The spirit 
of pra 3 'er seemed to purify and refine those homely fea- 
tures and make them luminous. Who has not seen the 
phenomenon of a like transfiguration on sacred faces 
where the habits of the soul have triumphed over the 
plainest features, giving them that spiritual illumination 
whose light comes from the purity and nobilitj" of the 
inward thought? The spectacle of this transformation 
wrought b}" the struggle which consumed the last shreds 
of the human life of this woman, did somewhat affect 
the old cooper, though feebly, for his nature was of iron ; 
if his language ceased to be contemptuous, an imper- 
turbable silence, which saved his dignity as master of 
the household, took its place and ruled his conduct. 

When the faithful Nanon appeared in the market, 
many quips and quirks and complaints about the master 
whistled in her ears ; but however loudly public opinion 


Eugenie Grandet, 


233 


condemned Monsieur Grandet, the old servant defended 
him, for the honor of the family. 

‘‘Well!” she would say to his detractors, “don’t 
we all get hard as we grow old ? Why should n’t he 
get horny too? Stop telling lies. Mademoiselle lives 
like a queen. She ’s alone, that ’s true ; but she likes it. 
Besides, my masters have good reasons.” 

At last, towards the end of spring, Madame Gran- 
det, worn out by grief even more than by illness, 
having failed, in spite of her prayers, to reconcile the 
father and daughter, confided her secret troubles to the 
Cruchots. 

“ Keep a girl of twenty-three on bread and water I ” 
cried'Monsieur de Bonfons ; “without any reason, too ! 
Why, that constitutes wrongful cruelty ; she can pro- 
test, as much in as upon — ” 

“Come, nephew, spare us your legal jargon,” said 
the notary. “ Set your mind at ease, madame ; I 
will put a stop to such treatment to-morrow.” 

Eugenie, hearing herself mentioned, came out of her 
room. 

“ Gentlemen,” she said, coming forward with a 
proud step, “ I beg you not to interfere in this matter. 
M}’ father is master in his own house. As long as I 
live under his roof I am bound to obey him. His con- 
duct is not subject to the approbation or the disapproba- 
tion of the world ; he is accountable to God only. I 


234 


Eugenie Grandet, 


appeal to your friendship to keep total silence in this 
affair. To blame my father is to attack our family 
honor. I am much obliged to you for the interest you 
have shown in me ; you will do me an additional ser- 
vice if you will put a stop to the offensive rumors 
which are current in the town, of which I am acci- 
dentally informed.” 

“She is right,” said Madame Grandet. 

“ Mademoiselle, the best wa}^ to stop such rumors is 
to procure your liberty,” answered the old notary 
respectful^, struck with the beauty which seclusion, 
melancholy, and love had stamped upon her face. 

“Well, my daughter, let Monsieur Cruchot manage 
the matter if he is so sure of success. He understands 
your father, and how to manage him. If you wish to 
see me happy for m}^ few remaining days, you must, at 
any cost, be reconciled to j’our father.” 

On the morrow Grandet, in pursuance of a custom 
he had begun since Eugenie’s imprisonment, took a 
certain number of turns up and down the little garden ; 
he had chosen the hour when Eugenie brushed and 
arranged her hair. When the old man reached the 
walnut-tree he hid behind its trunk and remained for 
a few moments watching his daughter’s movements, 
hesitating, perhaps, between the course to which the 
obstinacy of his character impelled him and his nat- 
ural desire to embrace his child. Sometimes he sat 


JSuginie GrrandeL 235 

down on the rotten old bench where Charles and Eu- 
genie had vowed eternal love ; and then she, too, looked 
at her father secretly in the mirror before which she 
stood. If he rose and continued his walk, she sat 
down obligingly at the window and looked at the angle 
of the wall where the pale flowers hung, where the 
Venus-hair grew from the crevices with the bindweed 
and the sedum, — a white or yellow stone-crop very 
abundant in the vineyards of Saumur and at Tours. 
Maitre Cruchot came early, and found the old wine- 
grower sitting in the flne June weather on the little 
bench, his back against the division wall of the gar- 
den, engaged in watching his daughter. 

“What may you want, Maitre Cruchot?” he said, 
perceiving the notary. 

“I came to speak to you on business.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! have you brought some gold in exchange 
for my silver?” 

“ No, no, I have not come about money ; it is about 
your daughter Eugenie. All the town is talking of 
her and of you.” 

‘ ‘ What does the town meddle for ? A man’s house 
is his castle.” 

“ Very true ; and a man may kill himself if he likes, 
or, what is worse, he may fling his money into the 
gutter.” 

“ What do you mean?” 


236 


Euginie Grandet, 


“ Why, your wife is verj^ ill, my friend. You ought 
to consult Monsieur Bergerin ; she is likely to die. If 
she does die without receiving proper care, you will not 
be very easy in mind, I take it.’^ 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta! you. know a deal about my wife! 
These doctors, if they once get their foot in your 
house, will come five and six times a da}’.” 

“ Of course you will do as you think best. We are 
old friends ; there is no one in all Saumur who takes 
more interest than I in what concerns you. There- 
fore, I was bound to tell you this. However, happen 
what may, you have the right to do as you please ; 
you can choose your own course. Besides, that is not 
what brings me here. There is another thing which 
may have serious results for you. After all, you can^t 
wish to kill your wife ; her life is too important to 
you. Think of your situation in connection with your 
daughter if Madame Grandet dies. You must render 
an account to Eugenie, because you enjoy your wife’s 
estate only during her lifetime. At her death your 
daughter can claim a division of property, and she 
may force you to sell Froidfond. In short, she is her 
mother’s heir, and you are not.” 

These words fell like a thunderbolt on the old man, 
who was not as wise about law as he was about busi- 
ness. He had never thought of a legal division of 
the estate. 


Eugenie Orrandet. 


237 


“ Therefore I advise you to treat her kindly,” added 
Cruchot, in conclusion. 

“ But do you know what she has done, Cruchot? ” 

“What?” asked the notary, curious to hear the 
truth and find out the cause of the quarrel. 

“ She has given away her gold ! ” 

“ WeU, was n’t it hers? ” said the notary. 

They all tell me that ! ” exclaimed the old man, let- 
ting his arms fall to his sides with a movement that was 
truly tragic. 

“Are you going — for a mere nothing,” — resumed 
Cruchot, “ to put obstacles in the way of the conces- 
sions which you will be obliged to ask from your daugh- 
ten as soon as her mother dies ? ” 

“ Do you call six thousand francs a mere noth- 
ing?” 

“ Hey ! my old friend, do you know what the inven-/ 
tory of your wife’s property will cost, if Eugenie de- 
mands the division?” 

“ How much? ” ^ J 

“ Two, three, four thousand francs, perhaps ! The 
property would have to be put up at auction and sold, 
to get at its actual value. Instead of that, if you are 
on good terms with — ” 

“ By the shears of my father ! ” cried Grandet, turn- 
ing pale as he suddenly sat down, “ we will see about 
it, Cruchot.” 


238 


EugSnie QrandeL 


After a moment’s silence, full of anguish perhaps, 
the old man looked at the notar}’ and said, — 

“ Life is very hard ! It has many griefs ! Cruchot,” 
he continued solemnly, “you would not deceive me? 
Swear to me upon your honor that all you ’ve told me 
is legally true. Show me the law ; I must see the 
law ! ” 

“ My poor friend,” said the notary, “ don’t I know 
my own business ? ” 

“Then it is true! I am robbed, betrayed, killed, 
destroyed by my own daughter ! ” 

“It is true that your daughter is her mother’s 
heir.” 

“ Why do we have children? Ah! my wife, I lov© 
her ! Luckily she ’s sound and healthy ; she ’s a Ber- 
telliere.” 

“ She has not a month to live.” 

Grandet struck his forehead, went a few steps, came 
back, cast a dreadful look on Cruchot, and said, — 

“ What can be done? ” 

‘‘Eugenie can relinijuish her claim to her mother’s 
property. Should she do this you would not disinherit 
her, I presume? — but if you want to come to such a 
settlement, you must not treat her harshly. What I 
am telling you, old man, is against my own interests. 
What do I live by, if it is n’t liquidations, inventories, 
conveyances, divisions of property ? — ” 


EugSnie G-randet, 


239 


“We’ll see, we’ll see! Don’t let’s talk any more 
about it, Cruchot; it wrings my vitals. Have you 
received any gold?” 

“ No ; but I have a few old louis, a dozen or so, 
which you may have. My good friend, make it up 
with Eugenie. Don’t you know all Saumur is pelting 
you with stones ? ” 

“ The scoundrels I ” 

“ Come, the Funds are at ninety-nine. Do be satis- 
fied for once in your life.” 

“ At ninety-nine ! Are they, Cruchot? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Hey, hey! Ninety-nine!” repeated the old man, 
accompanjung the notary to the street-door. Then, 
too agitated by what he had just heard to stay in the 
house, he went up to his wife’s room and said, — 

“ Come, mother, you may have your daughter to 
spend the day with you. I’m going to Froidfond. 
Enjoy yourselves, both of you. This is our wedding- 
day, wife. See ! here are sixty francs for your altar at 
the Fete-Dieu ; you’ve wanted one for a long time. 
Come, cheer up, enjoy yourself, and get well ! Hur- 
rah for happiness ! ” 

He threw ten silver pieces of six francs each upon 
the bed, and took his wife ’s head between his hands 
and kissed her forehead. 

“ My good wife, you are getting well, are not you?” 


240 


Eugenie Grandet* 


‘ ‘ How can you think of receiving the God of mercy 
in your house when you refuse to forgive your daugh- 
ter?” she said with emotion. 

‘‘ Ta, ta, ta, ta! ” said Grandet in a coaxing voice. 
“ We ’ll see about that.” 

“Merciful heaven! Eugenie,” cried the mother, 
flushing with joy, “ come and kiss your father ; he for- 
gives you ! ” 

But the old man had disappeared. He was going as 
fast as his legs could carry him towards his vineyards, 
trying to get his confused ideas into order. Grandet 
had entered his seventy-sixth year. During the last 
two years his avarice had increased upon him, as all the 
persistent passions of men increase at a certain age. 
As if to illustrate an observation which applies equally 
to misers, ambitious men, and others whose lives are 
controlled by any dominant idea, his aflections had 
fastened upon one special symbol of his passion. The 
sight of gold, the possession of gold, had become a 
monomania. His despotic spirit had grown in propor- 
tion to his avarice, and to part with the control of 
the smallest fraction of his property at the death of 
his wife seemed to him a thing “against nature.” To 
declare his fortune to his daughter, to give an inven- 
tory of his property, landed and personal, for the pur- 
poses of division — 

“ Why,” he cried aloud in the midst of a field where 


241 


Eugenie Qrandet, 

he was pretending to examine a vine, “ it would be 
cutting my throat ! ” 

He came at last to a decision, and returned to Sau- 
mur in time for dinner, resolved to unbend to Eugenie, 
and pet and coax her, that he might die regally, hold- 
ing the reins of his millions in his own hands so 
long as the breath was in his body. At the moment 
when the old man, who chanced to have his pass-key 
in his pocket, opened the door and climbed with a 
stealthy step up the stairway to go into his wife’s room, 
Eugdnie had brought the beautiful dressing-case from 
the oak cabinet and placed it on her mother’s bed. 
Mother and daughter, in Grandet’s absence, allowed 
themselves the pleasure of looking for a likeness to 
Charles in the portrait of his mother. 

It is exactly his forehead and his mouth,” Eugenie 
was saying as the old man opened the door. At the 
look which her husband cast upon the gold, Madame 
Grandet cried out, — 

“ O God, have pity upon us ! ” 

The old man sprang upon the box as a famished tiger 
might spring upon a sleeping child. 

“ What ’s this? ” he said, snatching the treasure and 
carrying it to the window. “Gold, good gold!” he 
cried. “ All gold, — it weighs two pounds ! Ha, ha ! 
Charles gave you that for your money, did he ? Hein ! 
Why didn’t you teU me so? It was a good bargain, 
16 


242 


EugSnie Grandet. 


little one ! Yes, you are my daughter, I see that — ” 
Eugenie trembled in every limb. “ This came from 
Charles, of course, did n’t it?” continued the old man. 

“ Yes, father ; it is not mine. It is a sacred trust.” 

“ Ta, ta, ta, ta ! He took your fortune, and now 
you can get it back.” 

“ Father ! ” 

Grandet took his knife to pry out some of the gold ; 
to do this, he placed the dressing-case on a chair. Eu- 
genie sprang forward to recover it ; but her father, who 
had his eye on her and on the treasure too, pushed her 
back so violently with a thrust of his arm that she 
fell upon her mother’s bed. 

‘ ‘ Monsieur, monsieur ! ” cried the mother, lifting 
herself up. 

Grandet had opened his knife, and was about to 
apply it to the gold. 

“Father!” cried Eugenie, falling on her knees and 
dragging herself close to him with clasped hands, 
“father, in the name of all the saints and the Virgin ! 
in the name of Christ who died upon the cross I in the 
name of your eternal salvation, father! for my life’s 
sake, father ! — do not touch that ! It is neither yours 
nor mine. It is a trust placed in my hands by an un- 
happy relation : I must give it back to him uninjured ! ” 

“ If it is a trust, why were you looking at it? To 
look at it is as bad as touching it.” 


EugSnie G-mndeU 


243 


“ Father, don't destroy it, or you will disgrace me 1 
Father, do you hear ? ” 

“ Oh, have pity ! ” said the mother. 

“Father!" cried Eugenie in so startling a voice 
that Nanon ran upstairs terrified. Eugenie sprang 
upon a knife that was close at hand. 

“Well, what now?” said Grandet coldly, with a 
callous smile. 

“ Oh, you are killing me ! ” said the mother. 

“ Father, if your knife so much as cuts a fragment of 
that gold, I will stab myself with this one ! You have 
already driven my mother to her death ; you will now 
kill your child ! Do as you choose ! Wound for 
wound I ” 

Grandet held his knife over the dressing-case and 
hesitated as he looked at his daughter. 

“ Are you capable of doing it, Eugenie? ” he said. 

“ Yes, yes ! ” said the mother. 

“ She ’ll do it if she says so 1 ” cried Nanon. “ Be 
reasonable, monsieur, for once in your life.” 

The old man looked at the gold and then at his 
daughter alternately for an instant. Madame Grandet 
fainted. 

“There! don’t you see, monsieur, that madame is 
dying?” cried Nanon. 

“ Come, come, my daughter, we won’t quarrel for a 
box ! Here, take it ! ” he cried hastily, flinging the case 


244 


EugSnie Grandet. 


upon the bed. “ Nanon, go and fetch Monsieur Ber- 
gerin ! Come, mother,” said he, kissing his wife’s 
hand, “ it ’s all over ! There ! we ’ve made up — have n’t 
we, little one? No more dry bread ; you shall have all 
you want — Ah, she opens her eyes! Well, mother, 
little mother, come ! See, I ’m kissing Eugenie ! She 
loves her cousin, and she may marry him if she wants 
to ; she may keep his case. But don’t die, mother ; live 
a long time yet, my poor wife ! Come, try to move ! 
Listen! you shall have the finest altar that ever w'as 
made in Saumur.” 

“ Oh, how can you treat your wife and daughter so ! ” 
said Madame Grandet in a feeble voice. 

“ I won’t do so again, never again,” cried her hus- 
band ; “ you shall see, my poor wife ! ” He went to his 
inner room and returned with a handful of louis, which 
he scattered on the bed. “ Here, Eugenie ! see, wife! 
all these are for you,” he said, fingering the coins. 
“Come, be happy, wife! feel better, get well; 3^ou 
sha’n’t want for anything, nor Eugenie either. Here ’s 
a hundred louis d^or for her. You won’t give these 
away, will you, Eugenie, hein?” 

Madame Grandet and her daughter looked at each 
other in astonishment. 

“Take back your money, father; we ask for noth- 
ing but 3-our affection.” 

“Well, well, that’s right!” he said, pocketing the 


EugSnie Crrandet, 245 

coins ; “let ’s be good friends ! We will all go down to 
dinner to-day, and we’ll play loto every evening for 
two sous. You shall both be happy. Hey, wife? ” 

“ Alas! I wish I could, if it would give you pleas- 
ure,” said the dying woman ; “ but I cannot rise from 
my bed.” 

“Poor mother,” said Grandet, “you don’t know 
how I love you I and you too, my daughter ! ” He took 
her in his arms and kissed her. “ Oh, how good it is 
to kiss a daughter when we have been angry with her ! 
There, mother, don’t you see it’s all over now? Go 
and put that away, Eugenie,” he added, pointing to the 
case. “ Go, don’t be afraid ! I shall never speak of it 
again, never!” 

Monsieur Bergerin, the celebrated doctor of Saumur, 
presently arrived. After an examination, he told 
Grandet positively that his wife was very ill ; but that 
perfect peace of mind, a generous diet, and great care 
might prolong her life until the autumn. 

“Will all that cost much?” said the old man. 
“ Will she need medicines?” 

“ Not much medicine, but a great deal of care,” an- 
swered the doctor, who could scarcely restrain a smile. 

“ Now, Monsieur Bergerin,” said Grandet, “ you are 
a man of honor, are not you? I trust to you ! Come 
and see my wife how and when you think necessary. 
Save my good wife! I love her, — don’t you see? — 


246 


EugSnie G-randet. 


though I never talk about it ; I keep things to myself. 
I 'm full of trouble. Troubles began when my brother 
died ; I have to spend enormous sums on his affairs in 
Paris. Why, I ’m paying through my nose ; there ’s no 
end to it. Adieu, monsieur ! If you can save my wife, 
save her. I ’ll spare no expense, not even if it costs me 
a hundred or two hundred francs.” 

In spite of Grandet’s fervent wishes for the health of 
his wife, whose death threatened more than death to 
him ; in spite of the consideration he now showed on all 
occasions for the least wish of his astonished wife and 
daughter ; in spite of the tender care which Eugenie lav- 
ished upon her mother, — Jdadame Grandet rapidly 
approached her end. Every day she grew weaker and 
wasted visibly, as women of her age when attacked 
by serious illness are wont to do. She was fragile as 
the foliage in autumn ; the radiance of heaven shone 
through her as the sun strikes athwart the withering 
leaves and gilds them. It was a death worthy of her 
life, — a Christian death; and is not that sublime? In 
the month of October, 1822, her virtues, her angelic 
patience, her love for her daughter, seemed to find spe- 
cial expression ; and then she passed away without a 
murmur. Lamb without spot, she went to heaven, re- 
gretting only the sweet companion of her cold and 
dreary life, for whom her last glance seemed to proph- 
esy a destiny of sorrows. She shrank from leaving her 


Euginie Qrandet, 


247 


ewe-lamb, white as herself, alone in the midst of a 
selfish world that sought to strip her of her fieece and 
grasp her treasures. 

“ My child,” she said as she expired, there is no 
happiness except in heavenj;/you will know it some 
day.” ^ 


248 


EugSnie QrandeU 


Xll. 

On the morrow of this death Eugdnie felt a new mo- 
tive for attachment to the house in which she was born, 
where she had suffered so much, where her mother had 
just died. She could not see the window and the chair 
on its castors without weeping. She thought she had 
mistaken the heart of her old father when she found 
herself the object of his tenderest cares. He came in 
the morning and gave her his arm to take her to 
breakfast ; he looked at her for hours together with an 
eye that was almost kind; he brooded over her as 
though she had been gold. The old man was so unlike 
himself, he trembled so often before his daughter, that 
Nanon and the Cruchotines, who witnessed his weak- 
ness, attributed it to his great age, and feared that his 
faculties were giving away. But the day on which the 
family put on their mourning, and after dinner, to which 
meal Maitre Cruchot (the only person who knew his 
secret) had been invited, the conduct of the old miser 
was explained. 

“My dear child,” he said to Eugenie when the 
table had been cleared and the doors carefullj^ shut. 


EugSnie G-randeU 


249 


“you are now your mother’s heiress, and we have a 
few little matters to settle between us. Is n’t that so, 
Cruchot?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Is it necessary to talk of them to-day, father? ” 
“Yes, yes, little one ; I can’t bear the uncertainty 
in which I ’m placed. I think you don’t want to give 
me pain ? ” 

“Oh! father—” 

“ Well, then ! let us settle it all to-night.” 

“ What is it you wish me to do? ” 

“ My little girl, it is not for me to say. Tell her, 
Cruchot.” 

“ Mademoiselle, your father does not wish to divide 
the property, nor sell the estate, nor pay enormous 
taxes on the ready money which he may possess. 
Therefore, to avoid all this, he must be released from 
making the inventory of his whole fortune, part of which 
you inherit from your mother, and which is now undi- 
vided between 3^ou and your father — ” 

“ Cruchot, are you quite sure of what you are saying 
before you tell it to a mere child ? ” 

“ Let me tell it my own way, Grandet.” 

“Yes, yes, my friend. Neither you nor my daughter 
wish to rob me, — do j^ou, little one ? ” 

“But, Monsieur Cruchot, what am I to do?” said 
Eugenie impatiently. 


250 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


“ Well/’ said the notary, “ it is necessary to sign this 
deed, by which you renounce your rights to your moth- 
er’s estate and leave your father the use and disposition, 
during his lifetime, of all the property undivided between 
you, of which he guarantees you the capital.” 

“I do not understand a word of what you are say- 
ing,” returned Eugenie ; “ give me the deed, and show 
me where I am to sign it.” 

Pere Grandet looked alternately at the deed and at 
his daughter, at his daughter and at the deed, under- 
going as he did so such violent emotion that he wiped 
the sweat from his brow. 

“ My little girl,” he said, “if, instead of signing this 
deed, which will cost a great deal to record, you 
would simply agree to renounce your rights as heir 
to your poor dear, deceased mother’s property, and 
would trust to me for the future, I should like it better. 
In that case I will pay you monthly the good round 
sum of a hundred francs. See, now, you could pay for 
as many masses as you want for anybody — Hein ! a 
hundred francs a month — in livres f ” 

“ I will do all you wish, father.” 

“Mademoiselle,” said the notary, “it is my duty to 
point out to you that you are despoiling yourself with- 
out guarantee — ” 

“ Good heavens ! what is all that to me ? ” 

‘ ‘ Hold your tongue, Cruchot ! It ’s settled, all settled,” 


EugSnie Q-randet, 251 

cried Grandet, taking his daughter's hand and striking 
it with his own. “ Eugenie, you won’t go back on your 
word? — you are an honest girl, hein?” 

“Oh! father! — ” 

He kissed her effusively, and pressed her in his arms 
till he almost choked her. 

“ Go, my good child, you restore your father’s life ; 
but you only return to him that which he gave you : we 
are quits. This is how business should be done. Life 
is a business. I bless you ! you are a virtuous girl, and 
you love your father. Do just what you like in future. 
To-morrow, Cruchot,” he added, looking at the horrified 
notary, “ you will see about preparing the deed of 
relinquishment, and then enter it on the records of 
the court.” 

The next morning Eugenie signed the papers by 
which she herself completed her spoliation. At the end 
of the first year, however, in spite of his bargain, the 
old man had not given his daughter one sou of the hun- 
dred francs he had so solemnly pledged to her. When 
Eugenie pleasantly reminded him of this, he could not 
help coloring, and went hastily to his secret hiding- 
place, from whence he brought down about a third of 
the jewels he had taken from his nephew, and gave them 
to her. 

“ There, little one,” he said in a sarcastic tone, “ do 
you want those for your twelve hundred francs ? ” 


252 EugSnie Qrandet. 

“Oh! father, truly? will you really give them to 
me?” 

“I’ll give you as many more next year,” he said, 
throwing them into her apron. “ So before long you ’ll 
get all his gewgaws,” he added, rubbing his hands, 
delighted to be able to speculate on his daughter’s 
feelings. 

Nevertheless, the old man, though still robust, felt 
the importance of initiating his daughter into the secrets 
of his thrift and its management. For two consecutive 
years he made her order the household meals in his 
presence and receive the rents, and he taught her slowly 
and successively the names and remunerative capacity 
of his vineyards and his farms. About the third year 
he had so thoroughly accustomed her to his avaricious 
methods that they had turned into the settled habits 
of her own life, and he was able to leave the household 
keys in her charge without anxiety, and to install her 
as mistress of the house. 

Five years passed away without a single event to 
relieve the monotonous existence of Eugenie and her 
father. The same actions were performed daily with 
the automatic regularity of clockwork. The deep sad- 
ness of Mademoiselle Grandet was known to every 
one ; but if others surmised the cause, she herself never 
uttered a word that justified the suspicions which all 


EugSnie G-randet, 253 

Saumur entertained about the state of the rich heiress’s 
heart. Her only society was made up of the three 
Cruchots and a few of their particular friends whom 
they had, little by little, introduced into the Grandet 
household. They had taught her to play whist, and 
they came every night for their game. During the year 
1827 her father, feeling the weight of his infirmities, 
was obliged to initiate her still further into the secrets 
of his landed property, and told her that in case of 
diflaculty she was to have recourse to Maitre Cruchot, 
whose integrity was well known to him. 

Towards the end of this year the old man, then 
eighty-two, was seized by paralysis, which made rapid 
progress. Dr. Bergerin gave him up. Eugenie, feel- 
ing that she was about to be left alone in the world, 
came, as it were, nearer to her father, and clasped more 
tightly this last living link of affection. To her mind, 
as in that of all loving women, love was the whole of 
life. Charles was not there, and she devoted all her 
care and attention to the old father, whose faculties had 
Begun to weaken, though his avarice remained instinc- 
tively acute. The death of this man offered no contrast 
to his life. In the morning he made them roll him to 
a spot between the chimney of his chamber and the 
door of the secret room, which was filled, no doubt, 
with gold. He asked for an explanation of every noise 
he heard, even the slightest ; to the great astonishment 


254 


EugSnie Grandet, 


of the notaiy, he even heard the watch-dog yawning m 
the court-yard. He woke up from his apparent stupoi 
at the day and hour when the rents were due, or when 
accounts had to be settled with his vine-dressers, and 
receipts given. At such times he worked his chair 
forward on its castors until he faced the door of the 
inner room. He made his daughter open it, and 
watched while she placed the bags of money one upon 
another in his secret receptacles and relocked the 
door. Then she returned silently to her seat, after giv- 
ing him the key, which he replaced in his waistcoat 
pocket and fingered from time to time, j His old friend 
the notary, feeling sure that the rich heiress would 
inevitably marry his nephew the president, if Charles 
Grandet did not return, redoubled all his attentions ; 
he came every day to take Grande t’s orders, went on 
his errands to Froidfond, to the farms and the fields 
and the vineyards, sold the vintages, and turned eveiy- 
thing into gold and silver, which found their way in 
sacks to the secret hiding-place. 

At length the last struggle came, in which the strong 
frame of the old man slowly yielded to destruction. 
He was determined to sit at the chimney-corner facing 
the door of the secret room. He drew ofl* and rolled up 
all the coverings which were laid over him, saying to 
Nanon, “Put them away, lock them up, for fear they 
should be stolen.” 


Euginie Grandet, 


255 


So long as he could open his eyes, in which his whole 
being had now taken refuge, he turned them to the door 
behind which lay his treasures, saying to his daughter, 
“Are they there? are they there?” in a tone of voice 
which revealed a sort of panic fear. 

“ Yes, my father,” she would answer. 

“ Take care of the gold — put gold before me.” 

Eugenie would then spread coins on a table before 
him, and he would sit for hours together with his ej^es 
fixed upon them, like a child who, at the moment 
it first begins to see, gazes in stupid contemplation at 
the same object, and like the child, a distressful smile 
would flicker upon his face. 

“It warms me ! ” he would sometimes say, as an 
expression of beatitude stole across his features. 

When the cure of the parish came to administer the 
last sacraments, the old man’s eyes, sightless, appa- 
rently, for some hours, kindled at the sight of the cross, 
the candlesticks, and the holy- water vessel of silver; 
he gazed at them fixedly, and his wen moved for the 
last time. When the priest put the crucifix of silver-gilt 
to his lips, that he might kiss the Christ, he made a 
frightful gesture, as if to seize it ; and that last effort 
cost him his life. He called Eugenie, whom he did not 
see, though she was kneeling beside him bathing with 
tears his stiffening hand, which was already cold. 

“ My father, bless me ! ” she entreated. 


256 EugSnie G-randet. 

“ Take care of it all. You will render me an account 
yonder ! ” he said, proving by these last words that 
Christianity must alwa 3 ’S be the religion of misers. 

Eugenie Grandet was now alone in the world in that 
gray house, with none but Nanon to whom she could 
turn with the certainty of being heard and understood, 
— Nanon the sole being who loved her for herself and 
with whom she could speak of her sori’ows. La Grande 
Nanon was a providence for Eugenie. She was not a 
servant, but a humble fnend. After her father’s death 
Eugenie learned from Maitre Cruchot that she possessed 
an income of three hundred thousand francs from landed 
and personal property in the arrondissement of Saumur ; 
also six millions invested at three per cent in the 
Funds (bought at sixty, and now worth seventy-six 
francs) ; also two millions in gold coin, and a hundred 
thousand francs in silver crown-pieces, besides all the 
interest which was still to be collected. The sum total 
of her property reached seventeen millions. 

“ Where is my cousin?” was her one thought. 

The da^r on which Maitre Cruchot handed in to his 
client a clear and exact schedule of the whole inheritance, 
Eugenie remained alone with Nanon, sitting beside the 
fireplace in the vacant hall, where all was now a mem- 
ory, from the chair on castors which her mother had sat 
in, to the glass from which her cousin drank. 


Eugenie GrandeU 


257 


“ Nanon, we are alone — ” 

“Yes, mademoiselle ; and if I knew where he was, 
the darling, I ’d go on foot to find him/’ 

“ The ocean is between us,” she said. 

While the poor heiress wept in company of an old 
servant, in that cold, dark house, which was to her 
the universe, the whole province rang, from Nantes to 
Orleans, with the seventeen millions of Mademoiselle 
Grandet. Among her first acts she had settled an 
annuity of twelve hundred francs on Nanon, who, 
already possessed of six hundred more, became a rich 
and enviable match. In less than a month that good 
soul passed from single to wedded life under the protec- 
tion of Antoine Cornoiller, who was appointed keeper 
of all Mademoiselle Grandefs estates. Madame Cor- 
noiller possessed one striking advantage over her con- 
temporaries. Although she was fifty- nine 3’ears of age, 
she did not look more than fortj". Her strong features 
had resisted the ravages of time. Thanks to the healthy 
customs of her semi-conventual life, she laughed at old 
age from the vantage-ground of a ros}’ skin and an iron 
constitution. Perhaps she never looked as well in her 
life as she did on her marriage-day. She had all the 
benefits of her ugliness, and was big and fat and strong, 
with a look of happiness on her indestructible features 
which made a good many people envy Cornoiller. 

“ Fast colors ! ” said the draper. 

17 


258 


EugSnie QrandeU 


“Quite likely to have children/' said the salt mer- 
chant. “ She ’s pickled in brine, saving your pres- 
ence.” 

“ She is rich, and that fellow Cornoiller has done a 
good thing for himself,” said a third man. 

When she came forth from the old house on her waj’ 
to the parish church, Nanon, who was loved by all 
the neighborhood, received many compliments as she 
walked down the tortuous street. Eugenie had given 
her three dozen silver forks and spoons as a wedding 
present. Cornoiller, amazed at such magnificence, 
spoke of his mistress with tears in his e^^es ; he would 
willingly have been hacked in pieces in her behalf. 
Madame Cornoiller, appointed housekeeper to Made- 
moiselle Grandet, got as much happiness out of her new 
position as she did from the possession of a husband. 
She took charge of the weekly accounts ; she locked 
up the provisions and gave them out daily, after the 
manner of her defunct master; she ruled over two 
servants, — a cook, and a maid whose business it was 
to mend the house-linen and make mademoiselle’s 
dresses. Cornoiller combined the functions of keeper 
and bailifi*. It is unnecessary to say that the women- 
servants selected by Nanon were “perfect treasures.” 
Mademoiselle Grandet thus had four servants, whose 
devotion was unbounded. The farmers perceived no 
change after Monsieur Grandet’s death ; the usages and 


EugSnie GrandeL 


259 


customs he had sternly established were scrupulously 
carried out by Monsieur and Madame Cornoiller. 

At thirty years of age Eugenie knew none of the 
joys of life. Her pale, sad childhood had glided on be- 
side a mother whose heart, always misunderstood and 
wounded, had known only suffering. Leaving this life 
joyfully, the mother pitied the daughter because she 
still must live; and she left in her child’s soul some 
fugitive remorse and many lasting regrets. Eugenie’s 
first and only love was a wellspring of sadness within 
her. Meeting her lover for a few brief daj^s, she had 
given him her heart between two kisses furtively ex- 
changed ; then he had left her, and a whole world lay 
between them. This love, cursed b}" her father, had 
cost the life of her mother and brought her onl}" sor- 
row, mingled with a few frail hopes. Thus her upward 
spring towards happiness had wasted her strength and 
given her nothing in exchange for it.'^In the life of 
the soul, as in the physical life, there is an inspiration 
and a respiration ; the soul needs to absorb the senti- 
ments of another soul and assimilate them, that it may 
render them back enriched. Were it not for this glori- 
ous human phenomenon, there would be no life for the 
heart ; air would be wanting ; it would suffer, and then 
perish. Eugenie had begun to suffer. For her, wealth 
was neither a power nor a consolation ; she could not 
live except through love, through religion, through 


260 


EugSnie Grandet, 


faith in the* future. Love explained to her the myste- 
ries of eternity. Her heart and the Gospel taught her 
to know two worlds ; she bathed, night and day, in the 
depths of two infinite thoughts, which for her may have 
had but one meaning. She drew back within herself, 
loving, and believing herself beloved. For seven 3^ears 
her passion had invaded everything. Her treasures 
were not the millions whose revenues were rolling up ; 
they were Charles’s dressing-case, the portraits hanging 
above her bed, the jewels recovered from her father 
and proudly spread upon a bed of wool in a drawer of 
the oaken cabinet, the thimble of her aunt, used for 
a while by her mother, which she wore religiously as 
she worked at a piece of embroidery, — a Penelope’s 
web, begun for the sole purpose of putting upon her 
finger that gold so rich in memories. 

It seemed unlikely that Mademoiselle Grandet would 
marry during the period of her mourning. Her genu- 
ine pietj^ was well known. Consequent^ the Cru- 
chots, whose policy was sagel}^ guided by the old abbe, 
contented themselves for the time being with surround- 
ing the great heiress and paying her the most affec- 
tionate attentions. Every evening the hall was filled 
with a party of devoted Cruchotines, who sang the 
praises of its mistress in every key. She had her doc- 
tor in ordinary’, her grand almoner, her chamberlain, 
her first lady of honor, her prime minister ; above all, 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


261 


her chancellor, a chancellor who would fain have said 
much to her. If the heiress had wished for a train- 
bearer, one would instantly have been found. She was 
a queen, obsequiously flattered. '^Flattery never ema- 
nates from noble souls ; it is the gift of little minds, who 
thus still further belittle themselves to worm their way 
into the vital being of the persons around whom they 
crawl. Flattery means self-interest. / So the people 
who, night after night, assembled in Mademoiselle 
Grandet’s house (they called her Mademoiselle de Froid- 
fond) outdid each other in expressions of admiration. 
This concert of praise, never before bestowed upon 
Eugenie, made her blush under its novelty ; but insen- 
sibly her ear became habituated to the sound, and how- 
ever coarse the compliments might be, she soon was 
so accustomed to hear her beauty lauded that if any 
new-comer had seemed to think her plain, she would 
have felt the reproach far more than she might have 
done eight years earlier. She ended at last by loving 
the incense, which she secretly laid at the feet of her 
idol. By degrees she grew accustomed to be treated 
as a sovereign and to see her court pressing around 
her every evening. 

Monsieur de Bonfons was the hero of the little circle, 
where his wit, his person, his education, his amia- 
bility, were perpetually praised. One or another would 
remark that in seven years he had largely increased 


262 


EugSnie G-randet. 


his fortune, that Bonfons brought in at least ten thou- 
sand francs a year, and was surrounded, like the other 
possessions of the Cruchots, by the vast domains of 
the heiress. 

“Do you know, mademoiselle,” said an habitual 
visitor, “that the Cruchots have an income of forty 
thousand francs among them?” 

0 

‘ ‘ And then, their savings ! ” exclaimed an elderlj’ 
female Cruchotine, Mademoiselle de Gribeaucourt. 

“A gentleman from Paris has lately offered Mon- 
sieur Cruchot two hundred thousand francs for his 
practice,” said another. “ He will sell it if he is 
appointed juge de paixJ* 

‘ ‘ He wants to succeed Monsieur de Bonfons as pres- 
ident of the Civil courts, and is taking measures,” 
replied Madame d’Orsonval. “Monsieur le president 
will certainly be made councillor.” 

“Yes, he is a very distinguished man,” said an- 
other, — “ don’t you think so, mademoiselle?” 

Monsieur de Bonfons endeavored to put himself in 
keeping with the role he sought to play. In spite of 
his forty years, in spite of his dusky and crabbed fea- 
tures, withered like most judicial faces, he dressed in 
youthful fashions, toyed with a bamboo cane, never 
took snuff in Mademoiselle de Froidfond’s house, and 
came in a white cravat and a shirt whose pleated frill 
gave him a family resemblance to the race of turkej^s. 


263 


Euginie Grandet, 

He addressed the beautiful heiress familiarly, and 
spoke of her as “ Our dear Eugenie.” In short, ex- 
cept for the number of visitors, the change from loto 
to whist, and the disappearance of Monsieur and Ma- 
dame Grandet, the scene was about the same as the one 
with which this history opened. The pack were still 
pursuing Eugenie and her millions ; but the hounds, 
more in number, lay better on the scent, and beset the 
prey more unitedly. If Charles could have dropped 
from the Indian Isles, he would have found the same 
people and the same interests. Madame des Grassins, 
to whom Eugenie was full of kindness and courtesy, 
still persisted in tormenting the Cruchots. Eugenie, 
as in former days, was the central figure of the pic- 
ture ; and Charles, as heretofore, would still have 
been the sovereign of all. Yet there had been some 
progress. The fiowers which the president formerly 
presented to Eugenie on her birthdays and fete-days 
had now become a daily institution. Every evening he 
brought the rich heiress a huge and magnificent bou- 
quet, which Madame Cornoiller placed conspicuously in 
a vase, and secretly threw into a corner of the court- 
yard when the visitors had departed. 

Early in the spring, Madame des Grassins attempted 
to trouble the peace of the Cruchotines by talking to 
Eugenie of the Marquis de Froidfond, whose ancient 
and ruined family might be restored if the heiress would 


264 


EugSnie Grandet, 


give him back his estates through marriage. Madame 
des Grassins rang the changes on the peerage and the 
title of marquise, until, mistaking Eugenie’s disdainful 
smile for acquiescence, she went about proclaiming that 
the marriage with Monsieur Cruchot ” was not nearly 
as certain as people thought. 

“Though Monsieur de Froidfond is fifty,” she said, 
“ he does not look older than Monsieur Cruchot. He 
is a widower, and he has children, that’s true. But 
then he is a marquis ; he will be peer of France ; and 
in times like these where will 3- ou find a better match ? 
I know it for a fact that Pere Grandet, when he put all 
his money into Froidfond, intended to graft himself 
upon that stock ; he often told me so. He was a deep 
one, that old man ! ” 

“Ah! Nanon,” said Eugenie, one night as she was 
going to bed, “how is it that in seven years he has 
never once written to me?” 


Eugenie Grandet. 


265 


xm. 

While these events were happening at Saumur, 
Charles was making his fortune in the Indies. His 
commercial outfit had sold well. He began by realizing 
a sum of six thousand dollars. Crossing the line had 
brushed a good many cobwebs out of his brain; he 
perceived that the best means of attaining fortune in 
tropical regions, as well as in Europe, was to buy and 
sell men. He went to the coast of Africa and bought 
negroes, combining his traffic in human flesh with that 
of other merchandise equally advantageous to his in- 
terests. He carried into this business an activity 
which left him not a moment of leisure. He was gov- 
erned by the desire of reappearing in Paris with all the 
prestige of a large fortune, and by the hope of regain- 
ing a position even more brilliant than the one from 
which he had fallen. 

By dint of jostling with men, travelling through many 
lands, and studying a variety of conflicting customs, 
his ideas had been modified and had become sceptical. 
He ceased to have fixed principles of right and wrong, 
for he saw what was called a crime in one country 


266 


Eugenie Grandet, 


lauded as a virtue in another. In the perpetual strug- 
gle of selfish interests his heart grew cold, then con- 
tracted, and then dried up. The blood of the Grandets 
did not fail of its destiny ; Charles became hard, and 
eager for prey. He sold Chinamen, negroes, birds’ 
nests, children, artists ; he practised usury on a large 
scale ; the habit of defrauding custom-houses soon 
made him less scrupulous about the rights of his fellow- 
men. He went to the Island of St. Thomas and 
bought, for a mere song, merchandise that had been 
captured by pirates, and took it to ports where he 
could sell it at a good price. If the pure and noble 
face of Eug4nie went with him on his first voyage, like 
that image of the Virgin which Spanish mariners fas- 
ten to their masts, if he attributed his first success to 
the magic influence of the praj^ers and intercessions of 
his gentle love, later on women of other kinds, — blacks, 
mulattoes, whites, and Indian dancing-girls, — orgies 
and adventures in many lands, completely effaced all 
recollection of his cousin, of Saumur, of the house, 
the bench, the kiss snatched in the dark passage. He 
remembered only the little garden shut in with crumb- 
ling walls, for it was there he learned the fate that 
had overtaken him ; but he rejected all connection with 
the family. His uncle was an old dog who had filched 
his jewels ; Eugenie had no place in his heart nor in 
his thoughts, though she did have a place in his 


EugSnie Grandet. 267 

accounts as a creditor for the sum of six thousand 
francs. 

Such conduct and such ideas explain Charles Gran- 
det’s silence. In the Indies, at St. Thomas, on the 
coast of Africa, at Lisbon, and in the United States 
the adventurer had taken the pseudonym of Shepherd, 
that he might not compromise his own name. Charles 
Shepherd could safely be indefatigable, bold, grasping, 
and greedy of gain, like a man who resolves to snatch 
his fortune quibus cumque viis^ and makes haste to 
have done with villany, that he may spend the rest of 
his life as an honest man. 

With such methods, prosperity was rapid and bril- 
liant; and in 1827 Charles Grandet returned to Bor- 
deaux on the “ Marie Caroline,” a fine brig belonging 
to a royalist house of business. He brought with him 
nineteen hundred thousand francs worth of gold-dust, 
from which he expected to derive seven or eight per 
cent more at the Paris mint. On the brig he met 
a gentleman-in-ordinary to His Majesty Charles X., 
Monsieur d’Aubrion, a worthy old man who had com- 
mitted the folly of marrying a woman of fashion with 
a fortune derived from the West India Islands. To 
meet the costs of Madame d’Aubrion’s extravagance, 
he had gone out to the Indies to sell the property, and 
was now returning with his family to France. 

Monsieur and Madame d’Aubrion, of the house of 


268 


EugSnie GrandeL 


d’Aubrion de Buch, a family of southern France, whose 
last captal^ or chief, died before 1789, were now re- 
duced to an income of about twenty thousand francs, 
and they possessed an ugly daughter whom the mother 
was resolved to marry without a dot, — the famity for- 
tune being scarcely sufficient for the demands of her 
own life in Paris. This was an enterprise whose suc- 
cess might have seemed problematical to most men of 
the world, in spite of the cleverness with which such 
men credit a fashionable woman ; in fact, Madame 
d’Aubrion herself, when she looked at her daughter, 
almost despaired of getting rid of her to any one, even 

i. 

to a man craving connection with nobility. Mademoi- 
selle d’Aubrion was a long, spare, spindling demoiselle, 
like her namesake the insect ; her mouth was disdainful ; 
over it hung a nose that was too long, thick at the end, 
sallow in its normal condition, but very red after a 
meal, — a sort of vegetable phenomenon which is par- 
ticularly disagreeable when it appears in the middle of 
a pale, dull, and uninteresting face In one sense she 
was all that a worldly mother, thirty-eight years of age 
and still a beauty with claims to admiration, could have 
wished. However, to counterbalance her personal de- 
fects, the marquise gave her daughter a distinguished 
air, subjected her to hj^gienic treatment which provi- 
sionally kept her nose at a reasonable flesh-tint, taught 
her the art of dressing well, endowed her with charm- 


Eugenie Qrandet. 


269 


ing manners, showed her the trick of melancholy 
glances which interest a man and make him believe 
that he has found a long-sought angel, taught her the 
manoeuvre of the foot, — letting it peep beneath the 
petticoat, to show its tiny size, at the moment when 
the nose became aggressively red ; in short, Madame 
d’Aubrion had cleverh’ made the very best of her 
offspring. By means of full sleeves, deceptive pads, 
puffed dresses ampl}’ trimmed, and high-pressure cor- 
sets, she had obtained such curious feminine develop- 
ments that she ought, for the instruction of mothers, 
to have exhibited them in a museum. 

Charles became very intimate with Madame d’Au- 
brion precisely because she was desirous of becoming 
intimate with him. Persons who were on board the 
brig declared that the handsome Madame d’Aubrion 
neglected no means of capturing so rich a son-in-law. 
On landing at Bordeaux in June, 1827, Monsieur, 
Madame, Mademoiselle d’Aubrion, and Charles lodged 
at the same hotel and started together for Paris. The 
hotel d’Aubrion was hampered with mortgages ; 
Charles was destined to free it. The mother told him 
how delighted she would be to give up the ground* 
floor to a son-in-law. Not sharing Monsieur d’Au- 
brion’s prejudices on the score of nobility, she promised 
Charles Grandet to obtain a royal ordinance from 
Charles X. which would authorize him, Grandet, to 


270 


EugSnie Grandet, 


take the name and arms of d’Aubrion and to succeed, 
by purchasing the entailed estate for thirty-six thousand 
francs a year, to the titles of Captal de Buch and Mar- 
quis d’Aubrion. By thus uniting their fortunes, liv- 
ing on good terms, and profiting by sinecures, the two 
families might occupy the hotel d’Aubrion with an 
income of over a hundred thousand francs. 

“ And when a man has a hundred thousand francs a 
year, a name, a family, and a position at court, — for I 
will get you appointed as gentleman-of-the-bedchamber, 
— he can do what he likes,” she said to Charles. ‘ ‘ You 
can then become anything you choose, — master of the 
rolls in the council of State, prefect, secretary to an 
embassy, the ambassador himself, if you like. Charles 
X. is fond of d’Aubrion ; they have known each other 
from childhood.” 

Intoxicated with ambition, Charles toyed with the 
hopes thus cleverly presented to him in the guise of 
confidences poured from heart to heart. Believing his 
father’s affairs to have been settled by his uncle, he 
imagined himself suddenly anchored in the Faubourg , 
Saint-Germain, — that social object of all desire, where, 
under shelter of Mademoiselle Mathilde’s purple nose, 
he was to reappear as the Comte d’Aubrion, very much 
as the Dreux reappeared in Br4z^. Dazzled by the 
prosperity of the Restoration, which was tottering when 
he left France, fascinated by the splendor of aristo- 


Eugenie QrandeL 


271 


cratic ideas, his intoxication, which began on the brig, 
increased after he reached Paris, and he finally deter- 
mined to take the course and reach the high position 
which the selfish hopes of his would-be mother-in-law 
pointed out to him. His cousin counted for no more 
than a speck in this brilliant perspective ; but he went 
to see Annette. True woman of the world, Annette ad- 
vised her old friend to make the marriage, and promised 
him her support in all his ambitious projects. In her 
heart she was enchanted to fasten an ugly and unin- 
teresting girl on Charles, whose life in the West Indies 
had rendered him very attractive. His complexion had 
bronzed, his manners had grown decided and bold, like 
those of a man accustomed to make sharp decisions, 
to rule, and to succeed. Charles breathed more at his 
ease in Paris, conscious that he now had a part to 
play. 

Des Grassins, hearing of his return, of his approach- 
ing marriage and his large fortune, came to see him, 
and inquired about the three hundred thousand francs 
still required to settle his father’s debts. He found 
Grandet in conference with a goldsmith, from whom 
he had ordered jewels for Mademoiselle d’Aubrion’s 
corheille^ and who was then submitting the designs. 
Charles had brought back magnificent diamonds, and 
the value of their setting, together with the plate and 
jeweliy of the new establishment, amounted to more 


272 EugSnie G-randeL 

than two hundred thousand francs. He received des 
Grassins, whom he did not recognize, with the imperti- 
nence of a 3'oung man of fashion conscious of having 
killed four men in as many duels in the Indies. Mon- 
sieur des Grassins had already' called several times. 
Charles listened to him coldl}^, and then replied, without 
full}" understanding what had been said to him, — 

“ My father’s affairs are not mine. I am much 
obliged, monsieur, for the trouble j^ou have been 
good enough to take, — by which, however, I really 
cannot profit. I have not earned two millions by the 
sweat of my brow to fling them at the head of my 
father’s creditors.” 

“ But suppose that 3’our father’s estate were within a 
few days to be declared bankrupt?” 

“ Monsieur, in a few days I shall be called the Comte 
d’Aubrion ; 3’ou will understand, therefore, that what 
you threaten is of no consequence to me. Besides, 
3’ou know as well as I do that when a man has an in- 
come of a hundred thousand francs his father has 
never failed'' So saying, he politely edged Monsieur 
des Grassins to the door. 

At the beginning of August in the same year, Eu- 
genie was sitting on the little wooden bench where her 
cousin had sworn to love her eterna%, and where she 
usually breakfasted if the weather were fine. The poor 


273 


Eugenie Grandet, 

girl was happy, for the moment, in the fresh and joyous 
summer air, letting her memory recall the great and the 
little events of her love and the catastrophes which had 
followed it. The sun had just reached the angle of the 
ruined wall, so full of chinks, which no one, through a 
caprice of the mistress, was allowed to touch, though 
Cornoiller often remarked to his wife that “it would 
fall and crush somebody one of these days.” At this 
moment the postman knocked, and gave a letter to Ma- 
dame Cornoiller, who ran into the garden, crying out : 

“ Mademoiselle, a letter ! ” She gave it to her mis- 
tress, adding, “ Is it the one you expected? ” 

The words rang as loudly in the heart of Eugenie as 
they echoed in sound from wall to wall of the court and 
garden. 

“ Paris — from him — he has returned ! ” 

Eugenie turned pale and held the letter for a mo- 
ment. She trembled so violently that she could not 
break the seal. La Grande Nanon stood before her, 
both hands on her hips, her joy puflang as it were like 
smoke through the cracks of her brown face. 

“ Read it, mademoiselle ! ” 

“Ah, Nanon, why did he return to Paris? He went 
from Saumur.” 

“ Read it, and you 'll find out.” 

Eugenie opened the letter with trembling fingers. A 
cheque on the house of “ Madame des Grassins and 
18 


274 EugSnie Grandet, 

Corret, of Saumur,” fluttered down. Nanon picked 
it up. 

My dear Cousin, — 

“No longer ‘Eugenie,’” she thought, and her heart 
quailed. 

You — 

“He once said ‘ thou.’” She folded her arms and 
dared not read another word ; great tears gathered in 
her eyes. 

“Is he dead? ” asked Nanon. 

“If he were, he could not wiite,” said Eugenie. 

She then read the whole letter, which was as follows : 

My Dear Cousin, — You will, I am sure, hear with 
pleasure of the success of my enterprise. You brought me 
luck ; I have come back rich, and I have followed the advice 
of my uncle, whose death, together with that of my aunt, I 
have just learned from Monsieur des Grassins. The death 
of parents is in the course of nature, and we must succeed 
them. I trust you are by this time consoled. Nothing can 
resist time, as I am well aware. Yes, my dear cousin, the 
day of illusions is, unfortunately, gone for me. How could 
it be otherwise ? Travelling through many lands, I have re- 
flected upon life. I was a child when I went away, — I have 
come back a man. To-day, I think of many things I did 
not dream of then. You are free, my dear cousin, and I am 
free still. Nothing apparently hinders the realization of our 
early hopes ; but my nature is too loyal to hide from you the 
situation in which I find myself. I have not forgotten our 
relations; I have always remembered, throughout my long 
wanderings, the little wooden seat — 


EugSnie Qrandet, 


275 


Eugenie rose as if she were sitting on live coals, and 
went away and sat down on the stone steps of the 
court. 

— the little wooden seat where we vowed to love each other 
forever, the passage, the gray hall, my attic chamber, and 
the night when, by your delicate kindness, you made my 
future easier to me. Yes, these recollectious sustained my 
courage; I said in my heart that you were thinking of me at 
the hour we had agreed upon. Have you always looked at 
the clouds at nine o’clock ? Yes, I am sure of it. I cannot 
betray so true a friendship, — no, I must not deceive you. 
An alliance has been proposed to me which satisfies all 
my ideas of matrimony. ' Love in marriage is a delusion. 
My present experience warns me that in marrying we are 
bound to obey all social laws and meet the conventional de- 
mands of the world. Now, between you and me there are 
differences which might affect your future, my dear cousin, 
even more than they would mine. I will not here speak of 
your customs and inclinations, your education, nor yet of 
your habits, none of which are in keeping with Parisian life, 
or with the future which I have marked out for myself. My 
intention is to keep my household on a stately footing, to 
receive much company, — in short, to live in the world; and I 
think I remember that you love a quiet and tranquil life. I 
will be frank, and make you the judge of my situation ; you 
have the right to understand it and to judge it. 

I possess at the present moment an income of eighty 
thousand francs. This fortune enables me to marry into the 
family of Aubrion, whose heiress, a young girl nineteen years 
of age, brings me a title, the place of gentleman-of-the-bed- 
chamber to His Majesty, and a very brilliant position. I 


276 


EiigSnie G-randet. 


will admit to you, my dear cousin, that I do not love Made- 
moiselle d’Aubrion; but in marrying her I secure to my 
children a social rank whose advantages will one day be in- 
calculable: monarchical principles are daily coming more and 
more into favor. Thus in course of time my son, when he 
becomes Marquis d’Aubrion, having, as he then will have, 
an entailed estate with a rental of forty thousand francs a 
year, can obtain any position in the State which he may 
think proper to select. We owe ourselves to our children. 

You see, my cousin, with what good faith I lay the state 
of my heart, my hopes, and my fortune before you. Possi- 
bly, after seven years’ separation, you have yourself forgotten 
our youthful loves; but I have never forgotten either your 
kindness or my own words. I remember all, even words 
that were lightly uttered, — words by which a man less con- 
scientious than I, with a heart less youthful and less upright, 
would scarcely feel himself bound. In telling you that the 
marriage I propose to make is solely one of convenience, that 
I still remember our childish love, am I not putting myself en- 
tirely in your hands and making you the mistress of my fate ? 
am I not telling you that if I must renounce my social ambi- 
tions, I shall willingly content myself with the pure and simple 
happiness of which you have shown me so sweet an image? 

“ Tan, ta, ta, — tan, ta, ti,” sang Charles Grandet to 
the air of Eon piu andrai^ as he signed himself, — 

Your devoted cousin, 

Charles. 

“Thunder! that’s doing it handsomely!” he said, 
as he looked about him for the cheque ; having found it, 
he added the words : — 


EugSnie Grandet, 277 

P.S. — 1 enclose a cheque on the des Grassins bank for 
eight thousand francs to your order, payable in gold, which 
includes the capital and interest of the sum you were kind 
enough to lend me. I am expecting a case from Bordeaux 
which contains a few things which you must allow me to 
offer you as a mark of my unceasing gratitude. You can 
send my dressing-case by the diligence to the h6tel d’Au- 
brion, rue Hillerin-Bertin. 

“ By the diligence ! ” said Eugenie. “ A thing for 
which I would have laid down my life ! ” 

Terrible and utter disaster ! The ship went down, 
leaving not a spar,- not a plank, on the vast ocean of 
hope ! Some women when they see themselves aban- 
doned will try to tear their lover from the arms of a 
rival, ^ey will kill her, and rush to the ends of the 
earth, — to the scaffold, to their tomb. That, no doubt, 
is fine ; the motive of the crime is a great passion, which 
awes even human justice. Other women bow their 
heads and suffer in silence ; they go their way dying, 
resigned, weeping, forgiving, praying, and recollecting, 
till they draw their latest breath. This is love, — true 
love, the love of angels, the proud love which lives 
upon its anguish and dies of it. Such was Eugenie’s 
love after she had read that dreadful letter. She raised 
her eyes to heaven, thinking of the last words uttered 
her dying mother, who, with the prescience of death, 
had looked into the future with clear and penetrating 
eyes ; Eugenie, remembering that prophetic death, that 


278 


Eugenie Grandet. 


prophetic life, measured with one glance her own des- 
tiny. Nothing was left for her ; she could only unfold 
her wings, stretch upward to the skies, and live in 
prayer until the day of her deliverance. 

“ My mother was right,” she said, weeping. “ Suf- 
fer — and die ! ” 


EugSnie GirandeL 


279 


XIV. 

Eugenie came slowly back from the garden to the 
house, and avoided passing, as was her custom, through 
the corridor. But the memory of her cousin was in the 
gray old hall and on the chimney-piece, where stood 
a certain saucer and the old Sevres sugar-bowl which 
she used every morning at her breakfast. 

This day was destined to be solemn throughout and 
full of events. Nanon announced the cur4 of the parish 
church. He was related to the Cruchots, and therefore 
in the interests of Monsieur de Bonfons. For some 
time past the old abb^ had urged him to speak to Made- 
moiselle Grandet, from a purely religious point of view, 
about the duty of marriage for a woman in her position. 
When she saw her pastor, Eugenie supposed he had 
come for the thousand francs which she gave monthly 
to the poor, and she told Nanon to go and fetch them ; 
but the cure only smiled. 

“ To-day, mademoiselle,” he said, “I have come to 
speak to you about a poor girl in whom the whole town 
of Saumur takes an interest, who, through lack of 
charity to herself, neglects her Christian duties.” 


280 


EugSnie GrandeU 


“Monsieur le cure, you have come to me at a mo- 
ment when I cannot think of my neighbor, I am filled 
with thoughts of myself. I am very unhappy ; my only 
refuge is in the Church : her bosom is large enough to 
hold all human woe, her love so fuU that we may 
draw from its depths and never drain it dry.” 

“ Mademoiselle, in speaking of this young girl we 
shall speak of you. Listen ! If 3'OU wish to insure 3’our 
salvation you have only two paths to take, — either 
leave the world or obey its laws. Obey either your 
earthly destiny or your heavenly destiny.” 

“ Ah ! 3^our voice speaks to me when I need to hear 
a voice. Yes, God has sent you to me ; I will bid fare- 
well to the world and live for God alone, in silence and 
seclusion.” 

“ My daughter, j’ou must think long before you take 
so violent a step. Marriage is life, the veil is death.” 

“ Yes, death, — a quick death ! ” she said, with dread- 
ful eagerness. 

“ Death? but you have great obligations to fulfil to 
society, mademoiselle. Are you not the mother of the 
poor, to whom you give clothes and wood in win- 
ter and work in summer? Your great fortune is a 
loan which you must return, and you have sacredly 
accepted it as such. To bury yourself in a convent 
would be selfishness ; to remain an old maid is to fail 
in duty. In the first place, can you manage your vast 


EugSnie Grrandet. 


281 


property alone? May you not lose it? You will have 
law-suits, 3"ou will find yourself surrounded by inex- 
tricable diflSculties. Believe your pastor : a husband is 
useful ; you are bound to preserve what God has be- 
stowed upon you. I speak to you as a precious lamb 
of my fiock. You love God too truly not to find your 
salvation in the midst of his world, of which you are a 
noble ornament and to which you owe your example.” 

At this moment Madame des Grassins was announced. 
She came incited by vengeance and the sense of a great 
despair. 

“Mademoiselle,” she said — “Ah! here is mon- 
sieur le curd ; I am silent. I came to speak to you on 
business ; but I see that you are conferring with — ” 

“ Madame,” said the cure, “ I leave the field to you.” 

“ Oh ! monsieur le cure,” said Eugenie, “ come back 
later ; your support is very necessary to me just now.” 

“ Ah, yes, indeed, my poor child ! ” said Madame des 
Grassins. 

“ What do you mean? ” asked Eugenie and the cure 
together. 

“ Don’t I know about your cousin’s return, and his 
marriage with Mademoiselle d’Aubrion? A woman 
does n’t carry her wits in her pocket.” 

Eugenie blushed, and remained silent for a moment. 
From this day forth she assumed the impassible coun- 
tenance for which her father had been so remarkable. 


282 EugSnie Grandet 

“ Well, madame,” she presently said, ironically, “ no 
doubt I carry my wits in my pocket, for I do not under- 
stand you. Speak, say what you mean, before monsieur 
le cm’e ; you know he is my director.” 

“ Well, then, mademoiselle, here is what des Grassins 
writes me. Read it.” 

Eugenie read the following letter : — 

My dear Wife, — Charles Grandet has returned from the 
Indies and has been in Paris about a month — 

“ A month! ” thought Eugenie, her hand falling to 
her side. After a pause she resumed the letter, — 

I had to dance attendance before I was allowed to see the 
future Vicomte d’Aubrion. Though all Paris is talking of 
his marriage and the banns are published — 

“ He wrote to me after that ! ” thought Eugenie. She 
did not conclude the thought ; she did not cry out, as 
a Parisian woman would have done, “ The villain!” 
but though she said it not, contempt was none the less 
present in her mind. 

The marriage, however, will not come off. The Marquis 
d’Aubrion will never give his daughter to the son of a bank- 
rupt. I went to tell Grandet of the steps his uncle and I 
took in his father’s business, and the clever manoeuvres by 
which we had managed to keep the creditors quiet until the 
present time. The insolent fellow had the face to say to 
me — to me, who for five years have devoted myself night 


Eugenie Grandet, 


283 


and day to his interests and his honor ! — that his father's af- 
fairs were not his ! A solicitor would have had the right to 
demand fees amounting to thirty or forty thousand francs, 
one per cent on the total of the debts. But patience! there 
are twelve hundred thousand francs legitimately owing to the 
creditors, and I shall at once declare his father a bankrupt. 

I went into this business on the word of that old croco- 
dile Grandet, and I have made promises in the name of the 
family. If Monsieur le vicomte d’Aubrion does not care for 
his honor, I care for mine. I shall explain my position to 
the creditors. Still, I have too much respect for Mademoi- 
selle Eugenie (to whom under happier circumstances we once 
hoped to be allied) to act in this matter before you have 
spoken to her about it — 

There Eugenie paused, and coldly returned the letter 
without finishing it. 

“ I thank you,” she said to Madame des Grassins. 

“Ah! you have the voice and manner of your de- 
ceased father,” Madame des Grassins replied. 

“ Madame, you have eight thousand francs to pay 
us,” said Nanon, producing Charles’s cheque. 

“That’s true; have the kindness to come with me 
now, Madame Cornoiller.” 

“Monsieur le cure,” said Eugenie with a noble 
composure, inspired by the thought she was about to 
express, “would it be a sin to remain a virgin after 
marriage ? ” 

‘ “ That is a case of conscience whose solution is not 
within my knowledge. If you wish to know what the 


284 


Eugenie Grandet, 


celebrated Sanchez saj^s of it in his treatise ‘ De Mat- 
rimonio,’ I shall be able to tell you to-morrow.” 

The cure went away ; Mademoiselle Grandet went 
up to her father’s secret room and spent the day there 
alone, without coming down to dinner, in spite of Na- 
non’s entreaties. She appeared in the evening at the 
hour when the usual company began to amve. Never 
was the old hall so full as on this occasion. The news 
of Charles’s return and his foolish treachery had spread 
through the whole town. But however watchful the 
curiosity of the visitors might be, it was left unsatisfied. 
Eugenie, who expected scrutiny, allowed none of the 
cruel emotions that wrung her soul to appear on the 
calm surface of her face. She was able to show a smil- 
ing front in answer to all who tried to testify their in- 
terest by mournful looks or melancholy speeches. She 
hid her misery behind a veil of courtesy. Towards nine 
o’clock the games ended and the players left the tables, 
paying their losses and discussing points of the game 
as they joined the rest of the company. At the mo- 
ment when the whole party rose to take leave, an un- 
expected and striking event occurred, which resounded 
through the length and breadth of Saumur, from thence 
through the arrondissement, and even to the four sur- 
rounding prefectures. 

“ Stay, monsieur le president,” said Eugenie to Mon- 
sieur de Bonfons as she saw him take his cane. 


EugSnie QrandeU 


285 


There was not a person in that numerous assembly 
who was unmoved by these words. The president 
turned pale, and was forced to sit down. 

“ The president gets the millions,” said Mademoiselle 
de Gribeaucoui-t. 

“It is plain enough; the president marries Made- 
moiselle Grandet,” cried Madame d’Orsonval. 

“ All the trumps in one hand,” said the abb4. 

“ A love game,” said the notary. 

Each and all said his say, made his pun, and looked 
at the heiress mounted on her millions as on a pedestal. 
The drama begun nine years before had reached its 
conclusion. To teU the president, in face of all Sau- 
mur, to “ stay,” was surely the same thing as proclaim- 
ing him her husband. In provincial towns social 
conventionalities are so rigidly enforced that an infrac- 
tion like this constituted a solemn promise. 

“ Monsieur le president,” said Eugenie in a voice of 
some emotion when they were left alone, “ I know what 
pleases you in me. Swear to leave me free during my 
whole life, to claim none of the rights which marriage 
will give you over me, and my hand is yours. Oh ! ” 
she added, seeing him about to kneel at her feet, “I 
have more to say. I must not deceive you. In my 
heart I cherish one inextinguishable feeling. Friend- 
ship is the only sentiment which I can give to a hus- 
band. I wish neither to affront him nor to violate the 


286 


EugSnie Grandet. 


laws of my own heart. But you can possess my hand 
and my fortune only at the cost of doing me an inesti- 
mable service.” 

“ I am ready for all things,” said the president. 

“ Here are fifteen hundred thousand francs,” she 
said, drawing from her bosom a certificate of a hundred 
shares in the Bank of France. “ Go to Paris, — not 
to-morrow, but instantly. Find Monsieur des Gras- 
sins, learn the names of my uncle’s creditors, call 
them together, pay them in full all that was owing, 
with interest at five per cent from the day the debt 
was incurred to the present time. Be careful to ob- 
tain a full and legal receipt, in proper form, before a 
notary. You are a magistrate, and I can trust this 
matter in your hands. You are a man of honor ; I will 
put faith in your word, and meet the dangers of life 
under shelter of your name. Let us have mutual in- 
dulgence. We have known each other so long that 
we are almost related ; you would not wish to render 
me unhappy.” 

The president feU at the feet of the rich heiress, his 
heart beating and wrung with joy. 

“ I will be your slave ! ” he said. 

“ When you obtain the receipts, monsieur,” she re- 
sumed, with a cold glance, “ you will take them with all 
the other papers to my cousin Grandet, and you will give 
him this letter. On your return I will keep my word.” 


EugSnie Qrandet. 


287 


The president understood perfectly that he owed the 
acquiescence of Mademoiselle Grandet to some bitter- 
ness of love, and he made haste to obey her orders, lest 
time should effect a reconciliation between the pair. 

When Monsieur de Bonfons left her, Eugenie fell back 
in her chair and burst into tears. All was over. 

The president took the mail-post, and reached Paris 
the next evening. The morning after his arrival he 
went to see des Grassins, and together they summoned 
the creditors to meet at the notary's office where the 
vouchers had been deposited. Not a single creditor 
failed to be present. Creditors though they were, jus- 
tice must be done to them, — they were all punctual. 
Monsieur de Bonfons, in the name of Mademoiselle 
Grandet, paid them the amount of their claims with 
interest. The payment of interest was a remarkable 
event in the Parisian commerce of that day. When 
the receipts were aU legally registered, and des Gras- 
sins had received for his services the sum of fifty thou- 
sand francs allowed to him by Eugenie, the president 
made his way to the hotel d’Aubrion and found Charles 
just entering his own apartment after a serious en- 
counter with his prospective father-in-law. The old 
marquis had told him plainly that he should not marry 
his daughter until all the creditors of Guillaume Graii- 
det had been paid in full. 

The president gave Charles the following letter ; — 


288 


EugSnie Q-randet. 


My Cousin, — Monsieur le president de Bonfons has un- 
dertaken to place in your hands the acquittance for all claims 
upon my uncle, also a receipt by which I acknowledge hav- 
ing received from you the sum total of those claims. I have 
heard of a possible failure, and I think that the son of a 
bankrupt may not be able to marry Mademoiselle d’Aubrion. 
Yes, my cousin, you judged rightly of my mind and of my 
manners. I have, it is true, no part in the world; I under- 
stand neither its calculations nor its customs ; and I could not 
give you the pleasures that you seek in it. Be happy, ac- 
cording to the social conventions to which you have sacrificed 
our love. To make your happiness complete I can only offer 
you your father’s honor. Adieu ! You |_will always have a 
faithful friend in your cousin 

Eugenie. 

The president smiled at the exclamation which the 
ambitious j^oung man could not repress as he received 
the documents. 

“We will announce our marriages at the same time,” 
remarked Monsieur de Bonfons. 

“ Ah ! you marry Eugenie? Well, I am delighted ; 
she is a good girl. But,” added Charles, struck with 
a luminous idea, “she must be rich?” 

“She had,” said the president, with a mischievous 
smile, “ about nineteen millions four days ago ; but she 
has only seventeen millions to-day.” 

Charles looked at him thunderstruck. 

“ Seventeen mil — ” 

“ Seventeen millions ; yes, monsieur. We shall mus- 


Eugenie Grandet, 289 

ter, Mademoiselle Grandet and I, an income of seven 
hundred and fifty thousand francs when we marry.” 

“ My dear cousin,” said Charles, recovering a little of 
his assurance, “ we can push each other's fortunes.” 

“ Agreed,” said the president. “ Here is also a 
little case which I am charged to give into your own 
hands,” he added, placing on the table the leather box 
which contained the dressing-case. 

“Well, my dear friend,” said Madame d’Aubrion, 
entering the room without noticing the president, 
“don’t pay any attention to what poor Monsieur 
d’Aubrion has just said to you ; the Duchesse de Chau- 
lieu has turned his head. I repeat, nothing shall inter- 
fere with the marriage — ” 

“Very good, madame. The three millions which 
my father owed were paid yesterday.” 

“ In money?” she asked. 

“Yes, in full, capital and interest; and I am about 
to do honor to his memory — ” 

“ What folly ! ” exclaimed his mother-in-law. “ Who 
is this?” she whispered in Grandet’s ear, perceiving 
the president. 

“ My man of business,” he answered in a low voice. 

The marquise bowed superciliously to Monsieur de 
Bonfons. 

“ We are pushing each other’s fortunes already,” said 
the president, taking up his hat. “ Good-by, cousin.” 

19 


290 


Eugenie Qrandet, 


“He is laughing at me, the old cockatoo! I’d 
like to put six inches of iron into him I *’ muttered 
Charles. 

The president was out of hearing. Three days later 
Monsieur de Bonfons, on his return to Saumur, an- 
nounced his marriage with Eugenie. Six months after 
the marriage he was appointed councillor in the Cour 
ro^’ale at Angers. Before leaving Saumur Madame de 
Bonfons had the gold of certain jewels, once precious to 
her heart, melted up, and put, together with the eight 
thousand francs paid back by her cousin, into a golden 
pyx, which she gave to the parish church where she 
had so long prayed for him. She now spent her time 
between Angers and Saumur. Her husband, who had 
shown some public spirit on a certain occasion, became 
a judge in the superior courts, and finally, after a few 
years, president of them. He was anxiously awaiting 
a general election, in the hope of being returned to the 
Chamber of deputies. He hankered after a peerage ; 
and then — 

“The king will be his cousin, won’t he?” said Na- 
non, la Grande Nanon, Madame Cornoiller, bourgeoise 
of Saumur, as she listened to her mistress, who was 
recounting the honors to which she was called. 

Nevertheless, Monsieur de Bonfons (he had finally 
abolished his patronymic of Cruchot) did not realize 
any of his ambitious ideas. He died eight days after 


Euginie Grandet. 


291 


his election as deputy of Saumur. God, who sees all 
and never strikes amiss, punished him, no doubt, for 
his sordid calculations and the legal cleverness with 
which, accurante Cruchot^ he had drawn up his mar- 
riage contract, in which husband and wife gave to each 
other, “ in case they should have no children.^ their 
entire ^property of every kind^ landed or otherwise^ 
without exception or reservation^ dispensing even with 
the formality of an inventory; provided that said 
omission of said inventory shall not injure their 
heirs and assigns^ it being understood that this deed 
of gift is^ etc.^ etc^ This clause of the contract will 
explain the profound respect which monsieur le presi- 
dent always testified for the wishes, and above all, for 
the solitude of Madame de Bonfons. Women cited 
him as the most considerate and delicate of men, 
pitied him, and even went so far as to find fault with 
the passion and grief of Eugenie, blaming her, as 
women know so well how to blame, with cruel but 
discreet insinuation. 

“Madame de Bonfons must be very ill to leave 
her husband entirely alone. Poor woman ! Is she 
likely to get well? What is it? Something gastric? 
A cancer? ” — “ She has gi'own perfectly yellow. She 
ought to consult some celebrated doctor in Paris.” — 
“ How can she be happy without a child? They say 
she loves her husband; then why not give him an 


292 


EugSnie Grandet. 


heir? — in his position, too ! ” — “Do you know, it is 
really dreadful ! If it is the result of mere caprice, it is 
unpardonable. Poor president ! ” 

Endowed with the delicate perception which a soli- 
tary soul acquires through constant meditation, through 
the exquisite clear-sightedness with which a mind aloof 
from life fastens on all that falls within its sphere, 
Eugenie, taught by suffering and by her later education 
to divine thought, knew well that the president desired 
her death that he might step into possession of their 
immense fortune, augmented by the property of his 
uncle the notary and his uncle the abbe, whom it had 
lately pleased God to call to himself. The poor soli- 
tary pitied the president. Providence avenged her for 
the calculations and the indifference of a husband who 
respected the hopeless passion on which she spent her 
life because it was his surest safeguard. To give life 
to a child would give death to his hopes, — the hopes of 
selfishness, the joys of ambition, which the president 
cherished as he looked into the future. 

God thus flung piles of gold upon this prisoner to 
whom gold was a matter of indifference, who longed 
for heaven, who lived, pious and good, in holy 
thoughts, succoring the unfortunate in secret, and 
never wearying of such deeds. Madame de Bonfons 
became a widow at thirty-six. She is still beautiful, but 
with the beauty of a woman who is nearly forty years 


EugSnie Grandet, 


293 


of age. Her face is white and placid and calm ; her 
voice gentle and self-possessed ; her manners are simple. 
She has the noblest qualities of sorrow, the saintliness 
of one who has never soiled her soul by contact with 
the world ; but she has also the rigid bearing of an old 
maid and the petty habits inseparable from the narrow 
round of provincial life. In spite of her vast wealth, 
she lives as the poor Eugenie Grandet once lived. The 
fire is never lighted on her hearth until the day when 
her father allowed it to be lighted in the hall, and it is 
put out in conformity with the rules which governed 
her youthful years. She dresses as her mother dressed. 
The house in Saumur, without sun, without warmth, 
always in shadow, melancholy, is an image of her life. 
She carefully accumulates her income, and might seem 
parsimonious did she not disarm criticism by a noble 
employment of her wealth. Pious and charitable insti- 
tutions, a hospital for old age, Christian schools for 
children, a public library richly endowed, bear testi- 
mony against the charge of avarice which some persons 
lay at her door. The churches of Saumur owe much 
of their embellishment to her. Madame de Bonfons 
(sometimes ironically spoken of as mademoiselle) in- 
spires for the most part reverential respect: and 3^et 
that noble heart, beating only with tenderest emotions, 
has been, from first to last, subjected to the calculations 
of human selfishness; money has cast its frigid influ- 


294 EugSnie Grandet. 

ence upon that hallowed life and taught distrust of 
feelings to a woman who is all feeling. 

“I have none but you to love me/’ she says to' 
Nanon. 

The hand of this woman stanches the secret wounds 
in many families. She goes on her way to heaven at- 
tended by a train of benefactions. The grandeur of 
her soul redeems the narrowness of her education and 
the petty habits of her early life. 

Such is the history of Eugenie Grandet, who is in 
the world but not of it ; who, created to be supremely 
a wife and mother, has neither husband nor children 
nor family. Lately there has been some question of 
her marrying again. The Saumur people talk of her 
and of the Marquis de Froidfond, whose family are 
beginning to beset the rich widow just as, in former 
days, the Cruchots laid siege to the rich heiress. 
Nanon and CornoiUer are, it is said, in the interests of 
the marquis. Nothing could be more false. Neither 
la Grande Nanon nor CornoiUer has sufficient mind 
to understand the corruptions of the world. 


University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 


BALZAC IN BNG-LISH. 


COUSIN PONS. 

♦ 

** It is late in the day to speak of the genius of Balzac, but it is worth while to 
commend the reader to the admirable translation of a number of his works 
issued by an American firm of publishers. The work of Miss Wormeley, whose 
name does not appear upon the titlepage, but who is said to be the translator, is 
deserving of the highest praise. Balzac’s intensely idiomatic French, as well as 
his occasional treatment of recondite subjects, and his frequent elucidation of 
complicated business transactions, render the translation of his works difiicult ; but 
the present translator has turned the original into clear and fluent English, read- 
ing not at all like a translation, yet preserving Balzac’s vigorous and characteristic 
style. It is not only the best translation of Balzac which we have, — which would 
not be high praise, since English versions of his novels have hitherto been few and 
fragmentary, — but one of the most excellent translations of any French author 
which we have met. The publishers have laid the American readers under 
obligation both by undertaking the enterprise of presenting Balzac in an English 
dress, and by their selection of a translator ; and it is most desirable that they 
should complete the work so well begun by putting within the reach of English- 
speaking readers the remainder of that marvellous body of fiction. The CotnidU 
Humaine." — The Church Review. ^ • j 

“ * Cousin Pons ’ is the latest translation in the Balzac senes now being issued 
by Roberts Brothers, Boston. It is a strong story of friendship and of greed. To 
all intents and purposes the narrative indicates a complete and perfect triumph of 
vice over virtue ; but vice is painted in such hideous colors, and virtue is shown in 
such effulgent beauty, as to make the moral well-nigh awe-inspiring. Balzac does 
not stay the natural course of events. He permits each character to work out its 
own results, and then makes the impression desired by comparative methods. In 
this, as in all his works, the wonderful writer manifests a familiarity with the 
ethics of life which has gained for him the eternal remembrance and graUtude 
of all readers ; and it is fair to presume that the Balzac now being translated and 
published by the Roberts Brothers will revive his name and bring again to his 
feet the world of English-speaking people.” — Springfield Republican. 

“ The last translation from Balzac brought out by Roberts Brothers in their 
new and beautiful edition is one of the famous Frenchman’s most original stoneA 
It is, in fact, one of the most extraordinary and original novels ever written, and 
only the mind of a genius could have conceived such a peculiar plot. The heroine 
of the novel — for whom the principal character sacrifices his comfort, his pleasure, 
and indeed his life ; for whom many other characters in the book sacnfice their 
honor ; and around whom all the excitement and interest centres— is, strangely 
enough, not a woman ; and yet this heroine calls forth the most ardent and 
passionate devotion a man is capable of, and her influence is elevating and not 
degrading. The manner in which a mania of any kind can absorb a man, body 
and spul, is wonderfully brought out in ‘Cousin Pons;* for the heroine of the 
book is a collection of curios. , u 

“Those who have formed a hasty judgment of Balzac from reading the Duchesse 
de Langeais* would do well to read ‘Cousin Pons.’ Balzac sees and depicts 
virtue as perfectly as vice, and it is his faculty of describing beauty p well as 
ugliness which has made him famous. The delicacy of perception which enabled 
him to perceive and describe every shade of feeling in ‘ Cousin Pons and to 
appreciate the nobility of Schmucke’s character is the chief characteristic of 
genius. The reader must read all the ‘ Scenes from Parisian Life to have any 
full conception of Balzac’s greatness. His breadth of vision , his dramatic power, 
his searching analysis of the most transient emotions,_and his quick perceptions of 
beauty, are all evident in ‘ Cousin Pons.’ It is an interesting, exciting novel, a 
perfect piece of literary execution, and a story which is, if sad, neither coarse nor 
immoral. ’ ’ — Boston T ranscript . ^ 

One handsome izmo volume, uniform with “ Pere Goriot,” 
“ Duchesse de Langeais,” “ Cesar Birotteau,” “ Eugenie Grandet. 
Bound in half morocco, French style. Price, $1.50. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH 


THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 


“ That exceedingly rare thing, — a French nijvel possessing all the virile nervous* 
ness of its kind and yet wholesome to the core, elevating in its tendency, and free 
even from the slightest moral taint or uncleanness, — we have it in Balzac’s ‘ Coun- 
try Doctor.’ It IS, if we mistake not, the fifth of the series of Balzac translations 
which the well-known Boston firm had the enterprise and the good fortune to 
publish. For though somewhat daring at first as an experiment, there is now 
no doubt that as the publishers sensibly enriched English literature by those ex- 
quisite translations of an author all too long neglected and overlooked by English- 
speaking people, so the venture has also proved a profitable one for them in a 
monetary sense. And here it must be said that if regret at anything in this book 
has to be expressed it is because of the continued omission of the name of the 
translator. In that respect the book is almost a marvel. This translation can no 
more be compared to the usual slapdash work glutting the market, made by per- 
sons lacking almost every requisite necessary for the task, than Balzac himself can 
be compared to the salacious, hollow-brained scamps who in English minds figure 
exclusively as French novelists. The translation is, in fact, exquisite. . . . 
The person who did the translation combines these two rare qualifications, — a 
thorough knowledge of French and a perfect mastery over English.” — New York 
Graphic. 

“ The many-sidedness of Balzac’s genius is strikingly exhibited in ‘ Le Medicin 
de Campagne.’ It demonstrates also the injustice of much of the criticism di- 
rected against this great writer by Sainte-Beuve and others who have followed 
his lines of interpretation. It is significant that this book was one of Balzac’s 
favorites. It is significant because the work is characterized by none of the 
qualities which it has been customary to attribute to his fiction, and which do, in 
fact, appear in much of it. The ‘ Country Doctor ’ is not a novel in the ordinary 
sense of the term. It is rather a prose poem, and one of the most beautiful, capti- 
vating, and ennobling in any literature. Balzac himself said of it that it was a pic- 
ture of ‘ the Gospel in action,’ and the definition is keen and succinct. It is indeed 
a story of the noblest and most practical philanthropy, so enriched by philosophy, so 
broadened by profound economic analysis, so full of deep suggestion and piercing 
criticism of social problems that it might constitute a statesman’s text-book, and 
convey useful ideas to the most experienced administrators. . . . The devotion of 
the country doctor to the community whose interests he had taken in charge is in- 
deed touching and beautiful, but such instances are not wholly unfamiliar. What 
gives this story its charm and distinction is the art of the writer in developing 
before us, by the simplest and least obtrusive means, one of those really majestic 
characters whose lives men follow with never- failing interest, and whose biogra- 
phies constitute the most fascinating literature, since they illustrate and stimulate 
the higher potentialities latent in every human breast. ... It only remains to be 
said that Miss Wormeley has translated the book excellently, and has preserved 
as nearly as possible every shade of the author’s meaning. The enterprise of the 
publishers in undertaking to English Balzac is certainly commendable, but it 
could not have succeeded as it has but for the good fortune which sent them so 
capable and sympathetic a translator.” — New York Tribune. 

— ♦ — 

One handsome izmo volume, uniform with “ Ph^e Goriotf 
“ Duchesse de Langeaisf “ Cesar Birotteauf “ Euginie Grandetf 
and “ Cousin Pons.** Bound in half morocco, French style. 
Price, $1.50. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH 


THE ALKAHEST; 

Or, The House of Claes. 

■ 

Among the novels of Honor^ de Balzac “ La Recherche de I’Absolu ” has 
always counted one of the masterpieces. The terrible dominion of a fixed idea 
was never shown with more tremendous force than is depicted in the absorption of 
all the powers, the mind, and body of Balthazar Claes by the desire to discover 
the Absolute, the “ Alkahest.” The lovely old mansion at Duai, its sumptuous 
furniture, its priceless pictures, its rare bric-i-brac, the pyramid of costly tulips 
that glowed in the garden, are painted with a touch rich and vivid, which shows 
Balzac at his best. _ This great novelist was always minute and exhaustive in his 
descriptions ; but in this story the material in which he w'orked was of a sort to 
arouse his enthusiasm, and he evidently revels in the attractive setting which its 
events demand. The tale itself is penetrating and powerful. — Boston. Coiirier. 

The “Alkahest” is a strong story, and all through it is to be felt that sub- 
current of vitalizing energy which in so many of Balzac’s books seems to propel 
the principal characters as in a special atmosphere, hurrying them with a kind of 
fiery yet restrained impatience toward the doom assigned them. . . . The scien- 
tific and mystical features of the sto^ are cleverly handled. Balzac made deep 
inquests before writing his philosophical studies, as he called them, and he was 
always rather ahead than abreast of the thoughts of his time. The central prob- 
lem dealt with here is, of course, as complete a mystery to-day as when the 
“ Recherche de I’Absolu ” was written. . . . Miss Wormeley has made a charao- 
teristically excellent translation of a book which presents many unusual difficulties 
and abstruse points. It is rarely possible to assert with any truth that an English 
version of a French book may be read by the public with nearl 5 r as much profit 
and apprehension as the original ; but it is the simple fact in this instance, and it 
is certainly remarkable enough to deserve emphasis. — New York Tribune. 

He who would know the art of novel-writing may go to Balzac and find an art 
that is natural, simple, and beautiful in its exercise, and is directed to both thought 
and feeling in behalf of humanity, and that realizes something good and enduring. 
He may look without much trouble at “ The Alkahest ; or. The House of Claes,” 
one of the most illustrative of the author’s method and aim, and excelling in 
philosophical analysis and in philosophical value. 

In this work Balzac has opposed the heart and intellect in a contest amid the 
conditions of social life, and sought to reveal their comparative nature and influ- 
ence, siding, although a remarkable example himself of intellectual development 
and force, in favor of the heart, — that Flemish heart which is ideal of all that is 
powerful for good and happiness in domestic life, and determines Flemish charac- 
ter so strongly that the qualities of that character impress themselves fixedly in 
Flemish painting and architecture. — Sunday Globe, Boston. 

One more scene in Balzac’s wonderful “ Comedy of Human Life.” It is “ The 
Alkahest; or. The House of Claesj” the greatest of the “philosophical studies.” 
It tells of the mad, persistent, vain endeavors of Balthazar, a scientist, to dis- 
cover the Absolute. Through years he squanders his estate in fruitless experi- 
ments. It is a drama that slowly chills the blood. Then comes the finale, 
“ Suddenly the dying man raised himself by his wrists, and cast on his frightened 
children a look which struck like lightning ; the hairs that fringed the bald head 
stirred, the wrinkles quivered, the features were illumined with spiritual fires, a 
breath passed across that face and rendered it sublime. He raised a hand 
clenched in fiiry, and uttered with a piercing cry the famous word of Archimedes, 
‘Eureka!’ — 1 have found.” It is the way Balthazar found the Absolute. — 
PhUadelphia Press. 


One handsome 1 2mo volume^ uniform with “ Pere Goriotf “ The 
Duchesse de Langeais^’ “ CSsar Birotteauf “ Euginie Grandetf 
“ Cousin Ponsf “ The Country Doctor f arid “ The Two Brothers^ 
Bound in half morocco^ French style. Price^ $ 1 * 50 . 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers^ BOSTON. 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH 


THE TWO BROTHERS. 

— — ♦O* 

“ It is quite possible that many French students may be somewhat puzzled to 
encounter that story of Balzac’s which they have always known under the title of 
‘ Un Menage de Gargon,’ in the strange and unfamiliar appellation ‘The Two 
Brothers.’ The explanation is simple enough, and it is interesting as illustrating 
one of Balzac’s peculiarities. A number of his books underwent many changes 
before they crystallized permanently in the edition definitive. Some of them were 
begun in a newspaper or review, carried along some distance in that way, then 
dropped, to appear presently enlarged, altered, ‘grown,’ as is said of children, 
‘ out of knowledge.’ The ‘ History of Balzac’s Works,’ by Charles de Lovenjoul, 
gives all the details of these bewildering metamorphoses. The first title of the 
present story was that which the American translator has selected, namely, ‘ Les 
deux Freres.’ The first part of it appeared in La Presse in 184X with this desig- 
nation, and in 1843 it was published in two volumes without change of title. The 
second part (now incorporated with the first) appeared in La Presse m 1842, under 
the title ‘ Un Menage de Gargon en Province,’ and figured as the continuation of 
‘ The Two Brothers ’ In 1843 the two parts were brought together, and the 
whole published as ‘ Un Menage de Gargon en Province.’ Balzac, however, was 
not yet satisfied. Having announced yet another title, namely, ‘ Le Bonhomme 
Rouget,’ he abandoned that, cancelled both the former ones, and called the tale, 
in the definitive edition of his works, ‘ La Rabouilleuse,’ after Flore Brazier, one 
of the characters in it. There can be no doubt that Miss Wormeley has chosen 
the most apposite of all these titles. The real subject is the career of the two 
brothers, Philippe and Joseph Bridau.” — New York Tribu7ie. 

“ Messrs. Roberts Brothers, of Boston, have added to the excellent translations 
they have already published of several of Balzac’s most famous novels a translation 
of ‘The Two Brothers,’ which forms a sequence in ‘Scenes from Provincial Life.’ 
As with the other novels that have preceded it, nothing but the highest praise can 
be awarded the work of the translator. It gives to the reader of English a remark- 
able rendering of Balzac’s nervous, idiomatic French ; and it presents the novel- 
reader a novel that must challenge his comparisons with the popular novels of the 
times. One cannot read far in Balzac’s pages without feeling refreshed by contact 
with a vigorous intellect. In this story he attempted to display two opposite types 
of character in brothers, which had been inherited by them from different ances- 
tors. In order to do this effectively he introduces in a few opening pages these 
ancestors, before coming to the real action of the story. . . . There is no plot, no 
intrigue, no aim whatever except to depict the characters of Joseph, Philippe, the 
mother, and the immediate friends about them. All this is done, however^ with 
such vivid reality that it fascinates the attention. It is like watching an artist de- 
velop with telling colors a great breathing, living picture. It is, in its way, a study 
of evolution. ‘ Perhaps I have never drawn a picture,’ said Balzac, in reference 
to the book, ‘ that shows more plainly how essential to European society is the 
indissoluble marriage bond, how fatal the results of feminine weakness, how great 
the dangers arising from selfish interests when indulged without restraint.’ There 
are many Philippes in the world outside of France ; the shrewd, selfish, swagger- 
ing Philippes w1k> march through life rough-shod, regardless of kindred, friends, 
or foes. Here is the man painted to the life for all time, and any country. Here 
also is the woman, with all her simplicity and weakness, who always and ever fails 
to gauge rightly this sort of man ; who is doomed to be his slave and victim. 
Balzac met them in his Parisian world forty years ago, and here they take their 
places in his comedy of human life. While there are such strong portraitures in 
literature as these novels, it is not easy to understand how so many weak, flimsy, 
pretentious ones find any readers at all. Let us have Balzac in excellent transla- 
tion by all means, — all that remarkable series that are still quite as good as new 
to the great majority of the English-speaking people.” — Brooklyn Citizen. 

♦— 

One handsome i2mo volume^ uniform •with P^re Goriot^ The 
Duchesse de Langeaisf ^^Cesar Birotteau,'’ Eugenie Grandetf Cousin 
Ponsf and “ The Country Doctor.^’' Half morocco. French style. 
Price, $1.^0. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


From The Art Interchange, a Household Jour- 
nal^ of February 13, 1886. 

THE DHCHESSE DE LANGEAIS, 

WITH 

An Episode under the Terror, The Illustrious 
Gaudissart, a Passion in the Desert, and 
A Hidden Masterpiece. 

By HONORE DE BALZAC. 

Since the days when Thackeray and Dickens were issuing in numbers 
those novels which have delighted so many readers, or George Eliot’s pub- 
lishers were able to announce a new novel from her pen, there has been no 
series of novels given to the public so notable and so well worthy of wide 
attention on the part of adult readers as this translation of Balzac from the 
press of Roberts Brothers. If it be objected, as it perhaps will be, that there 
is a flavor of immorality in Balzac, and that his works are not well adapted 
to general reading, it can be shown, we think, at least so far as the charge 
of immorality is concerned, that the objection is a superficial one ; and that 
while there is much in the times and society which form the ground-work 
of Balzac’s marvellous stories that is improper and fortunately counter to 
our civilization, still, Balzac’s tone concerning these very things is a healthy 
one, and his belief in purity and goodness, his faith in the possibilities of 
humanity, is too clear to admit of a question. He gives us wonderful pic- 
tures of the world he lived in. It was not altogether a good world. As it 
was he portrays it. Its virtues he praises and its vices he condemns, not 
by a page of mere moralizing, but by events and action, which, swaying the 
ethics of society with apparent uncertainty hither and thither, yet have an 
upward tread, even as they do in our world of to-day. “ The Duchesse de 
Langeais ” is the novel of this volume. It is from the Scenes de la Vie 
Parisienne of the Com6die Humaine. The temptation and struggle of the 
Duchess is one which could hardly, in our day, present itself to a pure- 
minded woman. In that day and time it could, and did; in spite of her 
wild abandonment to the lover who spurned her, the reader feels that 
Madame de Langeais was a noble-hearted woman, purer than those who 


counselled her a concealed enjoyment of her passion, nobler and better than 
the society which made her what she was. With great power and pathos is 
her story told. It is a very powerful scene when her lover meets her in the 
convent, and very dramatic is her tortured cry to the Mother Superior: 
“ This man is my lover ! ” How strong and pitiful the end, and the sad 
commitment to the waves of what was a woman and now is nothing ! The 
volume also contains four short stories. “ An Episode under the Terror,” 
from Scenes de la Vie Politique, is a story already familiar from previous 
translation, and which has drifted around in English as much perhaps as 
any of Balzac’s shorter stories. “ The Illustrious Gaudissart ” is from 
Scenes de la Vie de Province, an admirable example of Balzac’s humor. 
Gaudissart is a commercial traveller, — a drummer, in familiar parlance. He 
might be a drummer of to-day. If he were, he could easily find employ- 
ment with a high-class house. The shrewdness and impudence of the class 
has not varied much since Balzac’s time. Gaudissart adds to his line a 
children’s magazine and the agency of a Life Insurance Company. He is 
advised by the humorist of a provincial town to try his powers of persua- 
sion on a man who turns out to be a harmless, but decided lunatic. The 
scene between the two is humorous in the extreme. When Gaudissart calls 
the insuring one’s life for a large sum “ the discounting of future genius,” 
he adds a persuasive phrase to the repertoire of the life-insurance agent. 
“A Passion in the Desert” is from Scenes de la Vie Militaire, and is as 
singular a tale as might be imagined from the affection of a man and a 
tiger. The last of the four is “ The Hidden Masterpiece,” from Etudes 
Philosophiques. Here, to the readers of this edition, Balzac is seen in a 
new vein. Here is something of the strange, weird touch of Hawthorne, 
something of unreality, and the lingering vision of a possible moraL The 
translation could hardly be in better hands. The English is delightfully 
clear and nervous. Whoever reads these books will know Balzac very well, 
and it is safe to assume that they will like him very much. 


One handsome izmo volume^ uniform with *‘^Pere Goriot' 
and “ Cisar BirotteauP Bound in half morocco^ French 
style.- Price $1. so. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston 


\Froin the New York Tribune of October 13 , 1885 .] 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 


PERE GORIOT. Honors de Balzac. Translated. 
Boston : Roberts Brothers. 

In publishing a translation of Balzac*s “ P^re Goriot,” the Boston firm 
^'ndertaking the enterprise seems to feel that there is some doubt as to 
the success of the experiment, which includes, if the public approve the 
initial essay, the presentation in English of several of the great French- 
man’s other works. Perhaps the slow recognition of Balzac’s genius by 
the American and English public may be capable of intelligible explana. 
tion. The magnitude of his work is alone sufficient to repel such as only 
look to French fiction for ephemeral sensation, while the seriousness of 
his purpose might intimidate those who imagined that he was didactic and 
therefore dull. But the time should now be ripe for the introduction of 
English-speaking people to an author who by right of genius stands alone 
among his contemporaries y and whose marvellous knowledge of human no 
turey subtle analytic power^ encyclopcedic learningy and brilliant descriptive 
talent justify the daring comparison of his productive force with that of 
Shakespeare. 

To understand Balzac thoroughly, indeed, he must be read in the 
original and as a whole. Selected pieces from the “ Comedie Humaine ” 
may convey a sufficiently clear apprehension, for the public, of his powers, 
but a careful study of that wonderful scheme throughout is indispensable 
to a real knowledge of his aim and scope. The “ Comedie Humaine ” is 
the most remarkable work of its kind extant. It is not mere fiction. It 
is, as Balzac intended it to be, a faithful history of the France of his 
Itime ; a history so faithful and so detailed that were all other contem- 
porary literature destroyed, posterity could from this work reconstruct an 
exact and finished picture of the age. In his general preface (which the 
American publishers have judiciously prefixed to their translation of 
** P^re Goriot ”) the author gives some account of his plan. His aim was 
to do for society what Buffon had done for the animal kingdom. Since, 
however, men and women are complex creatures, and since their acts and 


2 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH, 


sufferings are caused mainly by the influence of passions whose treatment 
demands a profound study of psychology, it is evident that the task of the 
novelist, or, as he might be better named, the social historian, must be 
much more difficult than that of the naturalist. 

Balzac, however, supported by that confidence in its own powers which 
so often characterizes genius, grappled boldly with this arduous undertak- 
ing. He was to write the history of his time, nothing extenuating, and 
setting down nought in malice, painting in their due proportions the vices 
and the virtues of the period, showing the springs that moved society, the 
passions that furnished motives to action, the meannesses, the magnanimi- 
ties, the rapacity, the self-sacrifice, the sensuality, the purity, the piety, 
the heathenism of his fellow men and women. His equipment for the 
work was splendid. His erudition was both extensive and curious. He 
knew not only common but recondite things. In science he had out- 
stripped his generation. In the “ Comedie Humaine " may be recognized 
the practical embodiment of evolutionary philosophy. The influence of 
the environment upon character and conduct is always insisted upon by 
him. And because he never loses sight of th« natural processes through 
which character is moulded and changed, his characters possess a peculiar 
reality and vitality. To him they were indeed living, and the rare faculty 
by which, in the alembic of his mind, all the complex influences and 
agencies concerned went to form, complete, and vivify these creations, has 
endowed them with so strong an individuality that they live and move 
still for the reader. Nothing that belonged to Balzac’s time escaped him, 
and he explored the obscurer lines of research as conscientiously as those 
more open and clear. Thus it is that there is to be found in his works 
references to what are now thought the supernatural theories of the day, 
and he has sounded the depths of mysticism with the same devotion 
shown in his pursuit of physical science. 

Critics have regretted that he had no high moral aim ; but this regret 
seems to imply misapprehension of his purpose not less than error as to 
his achievements. His aim was to describe life as it was being lived 
under his eyes. That his tendencies were not debasing is shown by the 
striking contrast between his work and that of Zola. In the latter’s writ- 
lings the ugly, vile, and horrible is so elaborated, exaggerated, and kept in 
the foreground that it colors and characterizes everything. In Balzac 
there is not less realism, and nothing more graphic than his description# 
of the seamy side of life has ever been written. But there is no taint of 
lubricity and no suggestion of liking for the scenes so depicted. A 
sombre fire runs through all the pictures of low and vicious life, which, 
while enhancing the skill of the artist, moves to pity or indignation be- 
cause of the destinies so sadly fixed. Perhaps no better example of his 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH, 


3 


«tyle than “ P^re Goriot ” could be selected. Pere Goriot is the Lear of 
modern society ; and though the passions which move the characters are 
for the most part sordid and base, the pathos and power of the story are 
so great, that even in translation the genius of the master is unmistakable. 
There is nothing in fiction more pitiful than the figure of old Goriot. 
and the skill of the creator, which sets down all the defects and limitations! 
of the hero, thereby accentuates his devotion and the ignoble tragedy of 
his fate. 

Balzac, however, never adopted the modern vice known as the "star 
system ” in dramatic management. There were no " sticks ” in his com- 
pany. Every character is complete, intelligible, consistent, progressive 
Neither does he pad. From beginning to end, save as regards his de- 
scriptions of things and places, every sentence has direct relation to the 
working out of the plot. And as to those long and minute descriptions, 
which have vexed some critics, they were written with the distinct and 
avowed purpose of preserving faithful likenesses which should be of 
use to the historian of the future. Nor are they tiresome, but often seem 
to sharpen the realization of the story, and in all cases increase the gen- 
eral impression of fidelity to facts. The style of Balzac is very remarkable 
for its power. It is nervous , full of suppressed fire, suggesting a brain si 
prolific of thoughts that the utmost care had to be exercised to prevent them 
from overcrowding one another. The concentrated force of expression fre- 
quently reminds one of Shakespeare, and bursts of marvellous impassioned 
eloquence — not of the frothy kind, but presenting truths deep as the centre — 
at intervals flash out, adding to the sense of repressed volcanic power which 
pervades these works. 

The defects of Balzac are those of his time and country. It is curious 
that while he himself finds no really lofty female characters in English 
fiction, even belittling the heroines of Scott, and advancing the strange 
theory that the neglect by Protestant peoples of the worship of the Virgin 
has lowered their standard of womanhood, — his own most ambitious 
types of piety and purity in woman exhibit less of his characteristic knowl- 
edge of human nature than any of his other characters. This type, in fact, 
he appears to have described from pure imagination, with the result that 
his creations of this class are cold, unapproachable, abnormal, bloodless 
beings, whose goodness does not impress us as meritorious, because they 
are essentially incapable of wrong-doing. In a word, he has filled up the 
vacant niche with conventional angels, only removing their wings. As to 
the low plane of the ambitions which move so many of his characters, no 
doubt he would have said that he merely took the world as he found it; 
that these were the prevailing ambitions, and that he could not make 
society better than it was. And doubtless there is much force in this, 


4 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 


though it must be acknowledged that the France of Balzac’s time afforded 
almost as abundant material for satire as the Rome of Juvenal. 

Taking him at his own estimate, however, and accepting his view of the 
duties of the novelist under the given conditions, — a view, be it said, which 
is always open to doubt and dispute, — it is impossible not to admire the 
depth of his insight and the marvellous scope and comprehensiveness of 
^his genius. The enterprise he undertook was gigantic, yet what he ac- 
complished was so monumental a work as to prove the justness of his 
self-appreciation. Some day, perhaps, a complete translation of the 
“Comedie Humaine” will be undertaken. Possibly the success of 
Messrs. Roberts* venture may induce them to extend their enterprise. 
“ Cesar Birotteau,” and one or two more of Balzac’s stories, have been 
put into English already, though inadequately. There ought to be, in the 
United States and England, at the present time enough lovers of good liter- 
ature to make such an undertaking as a complete translation of this author 
remunerative. When we consider what masses of trash pour from mod- 
ern presses, and what capital is employed in reproductions of so-called 
classics which have become rare and obscure because they deserved obliv- 
ion, it seems reasonable to expect that Balzac would find purchasers if 
issued in the form suggested. 

The translation of “ P^re Goriot ” is very good, and Balzac is not the 
easiest author to translate. The publishers cannot do better than to intrust 
the succeeding volumes to the same capable hands, and it would be only justice 
to the translator to put his or her name on the titlepage. For it is a merito- 
rious deed to have turned into excellent, nervous English the prose of this 
^reat Frenchman, whose fire and fervor, clear sight aud powerful description, 
when contrasted with the average novel of the day, shine forth with redoubled 
splendor, and whose brilliant genius in the analysis of human character casts 
altogether into the shade the amateurish essays at psychologic fiction which 
are gravely spoken of in these degenerate times as the promising productions 
9f a new and higher school of literary art. 


PERE GORIOT. A Novel. By Honors de Balzac. 
i2mo. 349 pages. Prefaced with Balzac’s own account of his 
plan in writing the “ Comddie Humaine,” xix pages. Half- 
bound in morocco, French style. Price $1.50. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


THE RISE AND PALL OP C^SAR 
BIROTTEAU. 


“ ‘ C6sar Birotteau,’ which is the latest addition to the series of 
new translations of Balzac's novels, is one of the acknowledged master- 
pieces of modern fiction. It is strong in the best elements of Balzac’s 
strength, and free from the objectionable atmosphere which is often in- 
troduced into his other stories. No other novel better illustrates the 
marvellous accuracy and realism which Balzac attained in the reproduc- 
tion of personal idiosyncrasies, manners, habits, peculiarities of dress, 
and material surroundings. Cesar Birotteau is quite as real as the man 
we are meeting every day ; a great deal more real than many of the his- 
torical personages of his own epoch. He is a typical representative of 
the French bourgeois of the period of the Restoration. Coming up to 
Paris from the Provinces in his youth, we see the stamp of the middle 
class upon his square figure, his awkward gesture, his independence, his 
narrowness, his impenetrability to ideas. After the wise and prudent 
Constance becomes his wife and co-worker we follow rapidly the stages 
by which the two attain a remarkable commercial success. We see the 
honest, genuine, middle-class home life of Paris, with its limited 
ideas, its sweet and natural affections, its adhesion to class traits and 
sentiments. Then comes the dream of ambition, the land speculation, 
the inevitable sharper, quite as quick-witted and villanous in France 
as anywhere V else, the collapse of the enterprise, the agonies of bank- 
ruptcy, and the slow but sure return to solvency and honor. No 
other book gives us quite so clear an impression, quite so vivid a 
picture, of the life of the French shopkeeper, and of the sentiment 
of honor in all commercial transactions which is a matter of life 
and death with him. Balzac portrays, with a marvellous fidelity, the 
agonies of soul through which a man passes who loves his credit 
as he loves his life, and to whom failure is practically death. There 
is a noble motive underlying the story; and almost before we are 
aware of it, we find this narrow-minded bourgeois transformed into a 
veritable hero under our very eyes, and at the end he leaves behind him 
an impression akin to that of martyrdom.” — Christian Union, 

'‘For the third of their series of Balzac’s works in English, Messrs. 
Roberts Brothers have fixed upon ‘The Rise and Fall of Cesar 


CESAR BIROTTEAU. 


% 

Birotteau.’ In his pictures of bourgeois life Balzac is as accurate, as 
striking, and as sympathetic as when his scenes are courts and palaces, 
and his actors and actresses dukes and duchesses. All his types stand 
out with the clearness of portraits. Cesar himself, his wife Constance, 
his daughter Cesarine, Roquin the notary, Vauquelin the great chem- 
ist, the Claparone Cruchots, Du Tillets, and the rest, are finely cut 
individualities that bear the mark of nature and genius. Of plot there is 
little worth speaking of. The book might as truly be named the fall and 
rise, as the rise and fall, of Cesar Birotteau ; for, tragic as its close is, the 
image of the perfumer that it leaves on the reader’s mind is that of a 
man infinitely superior to the successful trader of our first acquaintance, 
with his petty ostentation and paltry ambitions. The stroke of misfor- 
tune which tested him — a stroke of which Balzac well knew the force 
from frequent sad experiences — and his pretended friends and professed 
admirers, transfigured, while it killed him ; and in the death of the honest 
merchant and righteous man we forgive and forget the foibles which had 
formerly hidden his true character from the world. Of the rich humor 
that lurks, like precious ore, even in the most serious seeming of Balzac’s 
narratives, there is an ample store in 'Cesar Birotteau,’ and everywhere 
w’e have evidence of that scientific fidelity which he brought to bear on 
every subject that he touched. Even in discussing the huile ciphalique 
he is equally correct from the chemical and the commercial standpoint. 
Few writers have combined such breadth of view with such exactness of 
detail. In both respects, ‘ Cesar Birotteau ’ is a masterpiece.” — Montreal 
Gazette. 

" No single work of Balzac affords so clearly the clew to the secret of 
his greatness, and but few manifest so fully the height and the range of his 
genius, as does ‘ Cesar Birotteau.’ Given the materials that are here uti- 
lized, a newspaper-man would write some clever articles on finance, a legal 
reporter would compile a valuable treatise on bankruptcy, and a contribu- 
tor to the magazines would pen a pathetic if not striking story. But 
Balzac with the magic of his power transmutes these crude data into a 
poem. Seldom is he so stern and unfaltering in his fidelity to the truths 
of nature as in this work ; and 3^et, despite of this, nay, rather of this fi- 
»delity, because of eagerness to grasp all the truth, he sees beyond the mere 
details of life, the Ideal hovering over and permeating the Real. The 
bare facts of existence have but poor significance and scant value if they 
be not seen as symbols of the higher and better things which they typify. 
Birotteau’s failure, because of his parvenu ambition, his credulous spec- 
ulative spirit, and the malicious enmity of Du Tibet, is depicted with a 


CESAR BIROTTEAd. 


3 


masterly hand. The conditions leading to it are identical in character, 
though differing perhaps in minor details, with those that obtained in 
these United States but a few years back, and still to some degree 
render our commercial classes no very enviable or desirable personages. 
But wherein Balzac manifests his unapproachable superiority over the 
Zolas and Daudets of our day is in the noble picture which he gives us of 
Birotteau and his family straining every nerve to pay all that is due every 
creditor, even after the settlement in the bankruptcy proceedings has 
been effected. True, as the mole-like among the Realists would assert, 
such examples of heroism are extremely rare. But just because they are, 
it is the duty of the poet to embody them in impressive works of art, so 
that humanity may be elevated to a plane where such nobility will not 
be rare. Such is the gospel of true Realism.”— The American Hebrew. 

“ Keeping in mind the plan upon which Balzac worked, — to describe 
all sorts of people, to depict life in all its varieties, to make, in fact, a 
social catalogue, constituting as complete and systematic a work in the 
natural history of men and women as might be made by the observer of 
ants or elephants, birds or fishes, — we have at least the comfort of study- 
ing different Parisian species, and of finding that, contrary to what might 
be — must be ? — presumed by the reader of ‘ Pere Goriot,’ there are 
some of the decent sort in the French capital. This narrative of a 
bourgeois perfumer who adhered to the royalist cause, sixty years ago, 
gathered some money, was decorated with the cross of the Legion of 
Honor, began to speculate, grew extravagant, went up like the well- 
known rocket and came down like its stick, — this is a particularly clean 
story and study of life. The family of Birotteau is a charming group. 
His faithful, sensible wife, and gentle, pure-minded daughter are so 
different from the female creatures depicted in the two preceding books 
of this issue that we can hardly understand why, since they must have 
inhabited Paris at nearly the same time with the characters in ‘ P^re 
Goriot,* we got in that work not a single glimpse of them, and were 
forced to conclude there were no such species. 

“ But poor Birotteau himself is the best figure, because he ends honor- 
ably and cleanly. His death, after his recovery from insolvency and his 
reinstatement in credit, is a pathetic but true stroke of the novelist’s art. 
And what is notable about it is that Balzac, in relating it, shows his 
appreciation of the moral dignity of Birotteau’s recovery and exit ; he 
does not handle these incidents coarsely or cynically, but as sympa- 
thetically as one could ask. So, too, he sketches the characters of 
Popinot and Pillerault with a firm but gentle hand, and makes them 


4 


CESAR BIROTTEAU. 


both win our esteem. On the whole, it is a pleasing study of French 
life, and is made the more attractive by its dashes of cheerful humor.” 
— The American {Philadelphia). 

“ The Balzac novel translated this time is ‘ Cesar Birotteau.* It relates 
the career of a bourgeois Frenchman in mercantile life, and is one of 
the most powerful and realistic novels ever written in any tongue, with- 
out a shade of French immorality, and with an occasional dash of humor 
to enlighten those sombre pages that we expect in Balzac. The book is 
a striking contrast to its predecessor in the series, and exhibits effectively 
the Shakspearian range of the pen to which we owe it. This series is a 
gratifying success, and there is reason for congratulation that it is likely 
to bring the complete works of Balzac to American book-shelves in so 
very adequate a translation.” — “ Templeton ” in Hartford Courant. 

“ Balzac’s ‘ Comedie Humaine ’ is the only undertaking of its kind ever 
attempted. His intention was to give to posterity a true picture of 
French civilization of the first half of the nineteenth century. Anthony 
Trollope imitated him, only on a much smaller scale. Trollope’s characters 
were mainly those who frequented the drawing-rooms of polite society 
and were never known to do anything bad, while Balzac’s were from 
every walk of life, and true representatives of the * Comedy of Human 
Life.’ Although he dealt with life as he really found it, yet his works 
have none of the vileness of the French novels of the present day. 
It is true he gave the darker side of life and painted it in vivid colors, 
yet in such a way that, instead of exciting the passions, it rather moves 
to pity. Every one of his characters have their part to play, and through- 
out his entire works there is not a dummy. His style is undoubtedly the 
most powerful of any novelist who ever lived, and his understanding of 
human nature equalled Shakspeare’s. 

“The publishers of the present translations (Messrs. Roberts Brothers, 
Boston) consider the first three books they have issued as an experiment 
to be continued only by the demand that may arise. ‘ The Duchesse de 
Langeais,’ ‘ P^re Goriot,’ and ‘ Cesar Birotteau ’ have already been 
published, and it is to be hoped that the other books will speedily 
follow, for the translations have been made without losing any of the 
power of the original.” — Times. 

One handsome izmo volume, uniform with “ Pere Goriot ” and “ The 

Duchesse de Langeais.” Bound in half morocco. French style. 

Price, $1.50. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


BALZAC’S PHILOSOPHICAL NOVELS. 

»- — 

THE MAGIC SKIN.— LOUIS LAMBERT. 

— ^SERAPHITA.^ — 

TRANSLATED BY 

KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION TO EACH NOVEL BV 
GEORGE FREDERIC PARSONS. 

[From Le Livre, Revue du Monde Littiraire^ Paris, March, 1889.] 

There are men so great that humanity passes generations of existences in 
measuring them. . . . Certain it is that to-day the French Academy makes Bal- 
zac’s work the theme for its prize of eloquence, that the great writer is translated 
and commented upon in foreign countries, and that in Paris and even at Tours, 
his native place, statues are in process of being erected to him. . . . But the 
marble of M. Chapus, the bronze of M. Fournier, — Balzac sad or Balzac seated, — 
are of little consequence to the glory of the writer standing before the world, who 
bore a world in his brain and brought it forth, who was at once the Diderot and 
the Rabelais of this century, and who, above and beyond their fire, their imagina- 
tion, their superabounding life, their hilarious spirit, paradoxical and marvellously 
sagacious as it was, had in the highest degree the mystical gift of intuition, and is 
able, beyond all others, to open to us illimitable vistas of the Unseen. 

It is this side of Balzac’s genius which at the present time attracts and pre- 
occupies foreign critics. Mile Katharine Prescott Wormeley has undertaken to 
translate the “ Comddie Humaine” into English. She has already published 
several volumes which show a most intelligent sympathy and a talent that is both 
simple and vigorous. Lately she translated “ La Peau de Chagrin ” (“ The Magic 
Skin”), and now, taking another step into the esoteric work of the Master, she gives 
to the Anglo-Saxon public “ Louis Lambert.” But she does not venture upon this 
arduous task without support. Mr. George Frederic Parsons has undertaken in a 
long introduction to initiate the reader into the meaning hidden, or, we should rather 
say, encased, in the psychologic study of a lofty soul which ends by inspiring mun- 
dane minds with respect for its seeming madness and a deep sense of the Beyond. 
. . . Many critics, and several noted ones, have so little understood the real mean- 
ing of “ Louis Lambert ” and “ Seraphita ” that they have wondered why the au- 
thor gave them a place in the “ Com^die Humaine,” which, nevertheless, without 
them would be a temple without a pediment, as M. Taine very clearly saw and 
said. Mr. Parsons takes advantage of Miss Wormeley’s translation to state and 
prove and elucidate this truth. The commentary may be thought a little long, a 
little replete, or too full of comparisons and erudite reference; but all serious 
readers who follow it throughout will never regret that they have thus prepared 
themselves to understand Balzac’s work. We call the attention of the philosophi- 
cal and theosophical journals to this powerful study. [Translated.] 


Handsome i2mo volumes; bound in half Russia, French style. 
Price, 1^1.50 per volume. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 


The Magic Skin. 

(LA PEAU DE CHAGRIN.) 

TRANSLATED BY 

KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 

4 

“The Magic Skin ” is a great novel, — great in its conception, great in its 
execution, and great in the impression it leaves upon the reader’s mind. Those 
who deny that Balzac is a moral teacher will retract their opinion after reading this 
powerful allegory. It is a picturesque representation of the great moral truth that 
in life we have to pay for every excess we enjoy. In the gradual shrinking of the 
“Magic Skin” we see the inevitable law that by uncontrolled dissipation of body 
or mind we use up our physical strength and exhaust our vitality. In that beauti- 
ful, cold, fascinating character, Fddora, the w-riter shows us the glittering world of 
fashion and frivolity which men pursue vainly and find to their cost only dust and 
ashes. In the gentle, loving, and devoted Pauline, Balzae represents the lasting 
and pure pleasures of domestic life. But in Raphael’s short enjoyment of them 
we see the workings of that inflexible law, “ Whatever ye sow that shall ye also 
reap.” In the vivid, striking, realistic picture of Parisian life which Balzac pre- 
sents to us in “ The Magic Skinj” the writer had a conscious moral purpose. We 
know of no more awful allegory in literature. — Boston Transcript. 

The story is powerful and original ; but its readers will be most alffected by its 
marvellous knowledge of human nature, and the deep-cutting dissection of charac- 
ter which makes the attempts of our own analytical novelists appear superficial 
and experimental. Life in all classes of the Paris of Louis Philippe’s time is por- 
trayed in the strongest lights and shadows, and with continual flashes of wit, 
satire, and sarcasm which spare neither politician, philosopher, priest, poet, jour- 
nalist, artist, man of the world, nor woman of the world. Through a maze of 
heterogeneous personages Raphael, the hero, is carried, pursued by the relentless 
Magic Skin, which drives him mercilessly to his doom. The vices of high society 
are laid bare ; but there is also a beautiful exposition of purity in the humble life 
of Pauline, who is the good angel of the story. In translating “ La Peau de Cha- 
grin ” Miss Wormeley has done work that is at once skilful and discreet. It is a 
man’s book, virile though not vulgar, and exposing prominences in French social 
views such as most writers veil in obscurities. Here all is frankly and honestly 
shown, but by a man of genius, who had no more need of prudish hypocrisy than 
Shakespeare. 

Mr. Parsons’s thoughtful preface is a fitting introduction to the most wonder- 
ful of all Balzac’s romances. It is not a whit too strong for Mr. Parsons to write 
that, saving Shakespeare, “no man could have been better fitted to examine men- 
tal processes, to gauge their effects, to estimate their significance, and to define 
their nature and scope ” than Balzac. If Balzac had been a German, and not a 
Frenchman of the French, this book of his would be as much of an epoch-maker 
as Goethe’s “ Faust.” It may take years before the fuller appreciation of “ La 
Peau de Chagrin ” comes, but it is a study of life which will be studied in cen- 
turies yet to come. — New York Times. 


One handsome \2mo volume., uniform with P^re Goriot," “ The 
Duchesse de Langeaisf Cesar Birotteau,'* ^'‘Eugenie Grandet,'^ 
“ Cousin Ponsf “ The Country Doctor," “ The Two Brothers," “ The 
Alkahest," and Modeste Mignon." Bound in half morocco, French 
style. Price, ^i.$o. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston. 


BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 


Modeste Mignon. 

TRANSLATED BY 

KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 

♦ 

In “ Modeste Mignon ” we still have that masterly power of analysis, keen, 
incisive, piercing superficiality and pretence, as a rapier pierces a doublet, but we 
have in addition the purity and sweetness of a genuine light comedy, — a comedy 
which has for its central object the delineation of the mysteries of a young girl’s 
mind. 

As a whole, “ Modeste Mignon ” is not only a masterpiece of French art, but 
a masterpiece of that master before whom later novelists must pale their ineffec- 
tual fires. As the different examples of Bdzac’s skill are brought before the pub- 
lic through the excellent translations by Miss Wormeley, none competent to j^ge 
can fail to perceive the power of that gigantic intellect which projected and carried 
out the scheme of the Com^die Humame, nor fail to understand the improvement 
in literature that would result if Balzac’s methods and aims were carefully studied 
by all who aspire to the name of novelist. — New York Home Jourtial, 

The public owes a debt of gratitude to the industrious translator of Balzac’s 
masterpieces. They follow one another with sufficient rapidity to stand in striking 
contrast with each other. The conscientious reader of them cannot but lay down one 
after another with an increasing admiration for their author’s marvellous grasp upon 
the great social forces which govern the thought and actions of men. In ‘‘ Modeste 
Mignon,” as in “ Eugenie Grandet,” we find that the tremulous vibrations of first 
love in the heart of a young and pure-minded girl are not deemed unworthy of this 
great artist’s study. The delicate growth of a sentiment which gradually expanded 
into a passion, and which was absolutely free from any taint of sensuality, is 
analyzed in “ Modeste Mignon” with consummate skill. The plot of this book 
is far from extraordinary. It is even commonplace.^ But where in these days 
shall we find another author who can out of such a simple plot make a story like 
the one before us? The many-sidedness of Balzac’s genius is widely acknowl- 
edged ; but there are probably few people among those whose acquaintance with 
his writings has been necessarily limited to translations who could conceive of him 
producing such a bright and sparkling story, thoroughly realistic, full of vitalizing 
power, keen analysis, and depth of study and reflection, brilliantly imaginative, 
and showing an elasticity in its creative process which cannot fail to attract every 
lover of a higher and better art in fiction. 

But light and delicate as Balzac’s touch generally is throughout this volume, 
there is also shown a slumbering force which occasionally awakens and delivers a 
blow that seems as if it had been struck by the hammer of Thor. He ranges over 
the whole scale of human passion and emotion, penetrates into the very inmost 
chambers of the heart, apprehends its movements, and lays bare its weakness 
with a firm and yet delicate touch of his scalpel. The book has been excellently 
translated by Miss Wormeley. She is fully in sympathy with the author, and has 
caught his spirit, and the result is a translation which preserves the full flavor, 
vigor, and delicacy of the original. 


One handsome i2mo volume.^ uniform with Plre Goriot,*' “ The 
Duchesse de Langeaisf Char Birotieau,'' '‘^Eugenie Grandet f 
'‘^Cousin Ponsf “ The Country Doctor f ^^The Two Brothers.^''' and 
“ The Alkahest'* Half morocco, French style. Price, ^1.50. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston. 


BALZAC IN BNQLISH 


LOUIS Tambert, 


“As for Balzac," writes Oscar Wilde, “he was a most remarkable combination 
of the artistic temperament with the scientific spirit." It is his artistic tempera- 
ment which reveals itself the most clearly in the novel before us. As we read 
“ Louis Lambert," we feel convinced that it is largely autobiographical. It is a 
psychical study as delicate as Amiel’s Journal, and nearly as spiritual. We follow 
the life of the sensitive, poetical schoolboy, feeling that it is a true picture of Bal- 
zac’s own youth. When the literary work on which the hero had written for years 
in all his spare moments is destroyed, we do not need to be told by Mr. Parsons 
that this is an episode in Balzac’s own experience ; we are sure of this fact already ; 
and no writer could describe so sympathetically the deep spiritual experiences of 
an aspiring soul who had not at heart felt them keenly. No materialist could have 
written “ Louis Lambert.’’ — Boston Transcript. 

Of all of Balzac’s works thus far translated by Miss Katharine Prescott Wormeley, 
the last in the series, “ Louis Lambert," is the most difficult of comprehension. 
It is the second of the author’s Philosophical Studies, “The Magic Skin” being 
the first, and “ Seraphita," shortly to be published, being the third and last. In 
“Louis Lambert" Balzac has presented a study of a noble soul — a spirit of 
exalted and lofty aspirations which chafes under the fetters of earthly existence, 
and has no sympathy with the world of materialism. This pure-souled genius is 
made the medium, moreover, for the enunciation of the outlines of a system of 
philosophy which goes to the very roots of Oriental occultism and mysticism as its 
source, and which thus reveals the marvellous scope of Balzac’s learning. The 
scholarly introduction to the book by George F rederic Parsons, in addition to 
throwing a great deal of valuable light upon other phases of the work, shows how 
many of the most recent scientific theories are directly in line with the doctrines 
broadly set forth by Balzac nearly sixty years ago. The book is one to be studied 
rather than read ; and it is made intelligible by the extremely able introduction 
and by Miss Wormeley’s excellent translation. — The Book-Buyer. 

“ Louis Lambert," with the two other members of the Trilogy, “ La Peau de 
Chagrin " and “ Seraphita,” is a book which presents many difficulties to the 
student. It deals with profound and unfamiliar subjects, and the meaning of the 
author by no means lies on the surface. It is the study of a great, aspiring soul 
enshrined in a feeble body, the sword wearing out the scabbard, the spirit soaring 
away from its prison-house of flesh to its more congenial home. It is in marked 
contrast to the study of the destructive and debasing process which we see in the 
“ Peau de Chagrin.” It stands midway between this study of the mean and base 
and that noble presentation of the final evolution of a soul on the very borders of 
Divinity which Balzac gives us in “ Seraphita.” 

The reader not accustomed to such high pionderings needs a guide to place him 
en rapport Seer. Such a guide and friend he finds in Mr. Parsons, 

whose introduction of one hundred and fifty pages is by no means the least valu- 
able part of this volume. It is impossible to do more than sketch the analysis of 
Balzac’s philosophy and the demonstration so successfully attempted by Mr. Par- 
sons of the exact correlation between many of Balzac’s speculations and the 
newest scientific theories. The introduction is so closely written that it defies 
much condensation. It is so intrinsically valuable that it will thoroughly repay 
careful and minute study. — From “ Lig^^" a London journal of Psychical and 
Occult Research^ March 9,1889. 

♦ 

One handsome izmo volume, uniform with P'tre Goriot^'^ “ The 
Duchesse de Langeais,'^* “ Cesar Birotieau,^^ “ Eugenie Grandet^^ 
“ Cousin Pons,'"* “ The Country Doctor^'* “ The Two Brothers f “ The 
Alkahest^'’ Modeste Mignonf “ The Magic Skin^"* Cousin BetteP 
Bound in half morocco,^ French Style. Price, ^ 1 . 50 . 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston. 


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